Illusions
by theearth
Summary: A Guy of Gisborne story, taking place after the second series....sort of.
1. Chapter 1

This story will take a while, but I promise not to abandon it. It is finished in my head but not on paper. Besides, I have to translate it from German into English. please be lenient with occasional mistakes or clumsy expressions, I'm German.

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What have I done? Guy tried to suppress the scream rising in his throat and heard himself moan, heard his rattled breath. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his fingers clutched the Sheriff's cloak. He opened his eyes…..darkness!...What was this?...Guy blinked…._a dream, everything had been a dream?_ Beside him, he heard the Sheriff snoring and Alan on the other side sleeping soundlessly. Guy was drenched in sweat and still clasping the old blanked he was covered with. He inhaled deeply and felt his heartbeat race. His hands touched his tearstained face and he coughed lowly. _A dream, only a dream…._

In his dream, he had killed her. He had always known that he was capable of this and his lips curled in a bitter smile. Even the only woman he had ever loved…His heart was in his mouth and his hands were trembling. Marian had laughed at him, had ridiculed him and had told him that she would marry Robin Hood, that she would rather die than be with him, Guy – but it had only be a dream….Really?

Ever since Marian's kiss at Nottingham Castle he had pushed away his doubts. This had been a turning point and he had believed that they had been given a second chance. And now….Alan had been evasive when Guy had asked him whether Marian was in love with Robin, and Guy had known why…Perhaps this was the reason for this dream; in his nightmare he had realised things he had not been willing to face when he was awake, things his subconscious had been trying to show him for a long time. It had not been loyalty to Vaysey that had caused him to tell the Sheriff that Marian was the Nightwatchman. In this moment he had known that nothing she had told him had been true, that she'd only sounded him out and lied to him. Alan's reaction had only confirmed this….Marian's feelings for him had only been illusions; she'd used him and had only messed about with him. – and not only she.

Guy was lying in the darkness, still shocked by what he had done in his dream, his limbs were leaden, but his mind seemed to have been unveiled. Not only had he nothing to expect from her, the Sheriff would try to get rid of him as soon as he had served his purpose. Title and money he'd been promised – he'd never get them. Vaysey had ridiculed him likewise, had treated him dismissively in front of others and shown everybody that he was no more than a henchman. The loyalty he had felt once for Vaysey, had been nothing to this man; for the Sheriff he was no more than a useful dog he could kick and who would come back anyway. But both Marian and Vaysey had not considered that you could kick a dog one time too much.

Alan and Vaysey were sleeping tightly and didn't move; in the yard, Guy heard a horse snort, but otherwise it was utterly quiet. He removed his blanket and rose soundlessly. The way to the door was blocked, since the others might wake up. He would get out through the window. Guy's eyes didn't leave Alan while he sneaked silently past him. If Alan woke up, he would have to silence him. No sound was to be heard when Guy climbed out of the window. Everything remained silent, when he sidled across the yard towards the stables. Obviously the innkeeper had penned the dog in. Guy opened the door in increments…still no sound. The straw rustled under his feet when he drew near to where Marian was lying. She was sleeping peacefully, the moonlight shining on her face. How beautiful she was and how innocent she looked. Guy knelt down and touched her face; she stirred and opened her eyes. Before she could utter a sound, he put his hand on her mouth.

Her eyes went wide in shock, but he knew that she would not scream and removed his hand. Slowly she sat up and looked at him. "Marian," he said and touched her hair, but although his touch was tender, she heard the coldness in his voice. His lips curled in the hint of a smile, but it was the kind of smile she had always feared, it didn't reach his eyes. She swallowed.

It's true then," he said eventually, his voice calm and businesslike, as if this didn't interest him at all. "You've never felt anything for me…."

"I…"

"Shush…" He lay a finger on her lips and continued. „Further lies are unnecessary…I don't need to ask why. You needed information and silly Guy of Gisborne gave it to you. How you must have laughed at me." He got up, his gaze scrutinizing her. His facial expression and his voice had changed and although his voice was still calm, the hatred unmistakeable; Marian knew that she would not leave the stables alive. Probably she had brought it onto herself. She had always known how dangerous he was, but had thought she could deal with him.

"You are right, Sir Guy," she said slowly and haltingly. "I used you, but there was a time, when I thought…. that you and I . .when you…."

"I loved you," Guy said tonelessly without reacting on her words at all. She had always known and had only ridiculed him. Before his mind's eye he saw himself kneeling down and proposing amidst all the people at Nottingham Castle. Stonily and with eyes that seemed to gaze into space, he looked down at her and then reached into his boots, pulling out his dagger.


	2. Chapter 2

Illusionen 2

**Illusions 2**

Marian flinched, tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. It would be futile anyway; so she didn't move, only prayed that it would be over quickly. She was glad though that he would not use the poisoned dagger he wore in his sleeve. She would have perished like an animal. Tied up, she had no chance whatsoever against a man like Guy of Gisborne. It would end here and now; she closed her eyes.

Guy looked down at the young woman, who was sitting on the ground in front of him, trembling and with her eyes closed. The Marian of his dreams had laughed at him, the real one waited for her death she knew she could not avoid. Guy's hand clutched the dagger, but he hesitated and his fingers began to tremble. There was not sound and eventually Marian opened her eyes. She looked at Guy, who was still standing there with the dagger in his hand and at least put it away in his boot again. She saw the mixture of pain and hatred in his face and didn't dare to move or say a word. One wrong word and he might change his mind! Guy grasped the chain Marian was shackled with and pulled her up, hard. "Don't think that you will get off unscathed," he said hoarsely. "His eyes narrowed. "Of course you may take your chance with the Sheriff, if you like."

Marian knew that she had a snowball's chance in hell of surviving, if she stayed here with Vaysey, and shook her head. For a reason she didn't know, Guy had decided not to follow the Sheriff any longer. So far, Vaysey's plan had been to take Marian to the Holy Land, but this plan also included Guy and Alan, and without Gisborne the Sheriff would probably think her dispensable. Well, she had had no illusions whatsoever that Vaysey would kill her eventually anyway, but going with Gisborne might give her a chance to escape. "Don't.even.think of it!" Guy snapped, who knew perfectly well where her thoughts were heading to. "You've fooled me long enough!"

He clicked his tongue and his stallion raised its head and came to him, snorting softly. Guy saddled his horse and fastened Marian's chain closely at the cantle, so that she had no chance to overthrow him. He knew she would try if she could. Then he fetched the halter and opened the door carefully. Everything remained silent and as soon as they were out of ear-shot, Guy loosened the chain, lifted Marian to the saddle and mounted his stallion. Soon they had left the inn behind them.

Guy swore under his breath. He had no idea what he'd do with her. He had acted upon impulse; he had wanted to see her suffer, wanted her to pay for what she had done to him, but in reality she was a burden and only hindered his escape. And he had to get away; Vaysey wouldn't be too pleased to lose his lieutenant _and_ two bags of gold.

It was dark and he couldn't ride as fast as he had liked; they would to have to take a break some time soon. His stallion was strong, but it had to carry two people. Meanwhile it had begun to rain and Guy knew Vaysey would not be able to follow them. The rain would cover the tracks. It was time to look for shelter, a cave or a ledge. Even if another inn had been close-by, Guy would not have dared to spend the night there. A knight, clad in black leather and a young woman in chains - He might as well send a letter with directions to Vaysey. The rain was pouring down and Marian was soaked through; water was running down Guy's collar when, suddenly, he saw a dilapidated hut appear in the darkness. There was no smoke from the chimney or a dog snarling as they came near; nobody was to be seen. Obviously, the hut was uninhabited; the door was open and the roof covered only by a few bunches of straw. Guy dismounted, lifted Marian from the horse and pushed her into the hut. Marian shuddered; it was a full moon, but the hut had only one little window and she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Her whole body was shivering from the cold; before, she had sat on the warm horse, Guy sitting behind her. Now the chill crept everywhere.

After only a few seconds Guy's eyes adjusted to the semidarkness. On the floor, there was a puddle of water, but one corner seemed to be dry. It was better than nothing. Guy's eyes searched the room and found what he had been looking for: some old iron rings in the wall, rusted but still firm enough that he could fasten Marian's chain. She would be able to move but not able to free herself. Then he turned around and pulled his dripping coat off which had protected him against the rain. Still, he had not spoken a word and had not looked at her as if she didn't exist.

She bit her lips. "Guy, please, I…."

Guy whirled around. „Shut.Up! I don't want to hear any more lies," he shouted. He looked in her face and she saw the hatred in his eyes. Even when he had set her father's house on fire, he had not looked at her like he did now…rage, disappointment…yes, but now….She was afraid; what would he do with her. Suddenly she was aware of her wet dress showing every detail of her feminine body and swallowed.

Guy knew exactly where her thoughts were heading and only looked at her disdainfully. "No need to be afraid. I wouldn't even touch you with a barge pole now," he hissed. "The noble lady …How far would you have gone to get the information you wanted? You're no better than a tavern whore, who is selling herself for a piece of bread and a little wine, only the whore knows she is starving otherwise. And they Sheriff you detest so much…you've used me as he did, but you think yourself superior.

It must be wonderful to always be on the right side, where everything is so simple."


	3. Chapter 3

Illusionen 3

Illusions 3

Guy had seen how Marian had flinched at his comparison with a whore, but hadn't she acted as one? He ignored her and turned away, lying down and pretending to sleep but rather staring at the dark wall. He heard the rustling of the chains and her soft moans

It was an irony of fate that Vaysey had been right in one point. You couldn't trust women…God, he had learned his lesson. What good had it done to him to fall in love with Marian? But what should he do with her now? It had been a mistake to take her with him. He had been blind with anger and disappointment, but now that his rage had faded, he only felt hatred, cold and deep. He should make up leeway; he should kill her and he hated himself for being so weak because he knew he couldn't do it.

Marian shivered with cold; of course, Guy didn't care that she was soaked through, freezing in the thin, wet garment. For all intents and purposes, she should be relieved that the hide and seek was over. But when she looked at the sleeping man, she only felt bad. She knew that he had loved her and that he would have done everything for her, even sacrifice his life. She tried to push this thought away. Guy of Gisborne was a cruel man, who had killed people at a whim, who had committed heinous crimes, who had even tried to kill the king. But what had he meant by his cryptic remark about being on the right side? She wouldn't think about him; he was the enemy. It had been right what she had done; she had done it for England and for Robin….Robin, who would probably dead by now.

Marian closed her eyes; she was exhausted but could not sleep. The rain was pouring down on the roof, and then the drops were falling down with a constant sound…drip, drip, drip…and the wetness and the cold were creeping in her bones. Eventually, she dozed off, but after a short time which could only have been minutes, she heard a sound and, startled, opened her eyes.

Guy had pulled on his still wet coat and was fastening his sword. At the rattle of her chains he looked at her, the scorn in his eyes tangible. "I have to go," he said hoarsely. At once she realised that he had only spoken of himself. Would he leave her alone in this hut, chained to the walls? She swallowed. He couldn't do that, no, he wouldn't…She would die for sure. Never would she be able to get rid of these chains…she'd starve to death.

Guy didn't even seem to notice her anguish. He was standing in front of her and still appeared indecisive. Then his mien changed and she saw his hurt. "Why couldn't you love me, Marian?" he asked. „Why not?"

„Don't you understand, Guy? I could have loved you!" Marian shouted and then whispered. "And this scared me."

Guy stared at her for a moment. "It doesn't matter any more," he said wearily and took the key for her chains out of his coat. Without looking into her face, he opened the lock and then turned around and left the hut without another word….Some moments later she heard the clip-clop of hooves….silence…she was alone.

Something was wrong. He'd always had a sixth sense for things which went awry. Vaysey cracked an eye, the first rays of light shone through the window and everything was silent. What had woken him? He rubbed his eyes, and suddenly he knew what was wrong. Where was Gisborne? It was not that Gisborne was not on his bed, – this was not unusual – but who took his coat and sword with him to go out and relieve himself?

Vaysey got up and his piggy little eyes scrutinised Alan, who was sleeping soundly. Until now the boy had not proven that he could be of any use. Instead, he was running after Gisborne like a little black shadow. Vaysey snorted, amused. _Why, he was indeed a comely laddie_.

Then he pursed his lips; there were more important things than the boy. Damn, where was Gisborne? Maybe he was in the stables. If Gisborne didn't pay attention, the stupid tart might string him along again.

Vaysey took his sword and poked the pommel hard into Alan's ribs.

"What the…!" Alan awoke with a start and looked into Vaysey's angry face. "Get up and search for, fetch him, but don't wake anybody up," the Sheriff grouched without preamble, and Alan hurried to obey. Hastily, he pulled his boots on and staggered out of the room. He swore under his breath, while he was walking across the yard. What was all this fuss about so early in the morning? Sure, Guy must be nearby. Only a short time later he knew why the Sheriff had been so nervous: Guy was nowhere to be found, his stallion and Marian were missing, too. Damn! He could picture Vaysey's reaction when he got this news, and of course he knew who would have to bear the Sheriff's tantrum. On the other hand this might be the chance he had waited for. If he could convince Vaysey that he had not known anything about Gisborne's plans that on the contrary he would do everything to capture him, he might become Guy's successor.

Alan grinned at the thought of Robin. This should bring him down a peg or two, Guy escaping with Marian. Obviously, she didn't care as much about Robin as he had thought, but he'd never understood what she'd seen in him. He was a vain show-off. Everybody look at the great Robin Hood! He had never cared about anything but his own reputation.

Even before Alan came back, red-.faced and embarrassed, Vaysey knew that he had not found Guy of Gisborne and that, along with his former confident, two bags of gold were missing. This undid his plans for the time being. Without the gold he didn't have enough means to travel to the holy land and to _smooth his way_ there; he had to return to Nottingham. If he ever got hold of Gisborne again, he would make him pay dearly and he already had some splendid ideas for this punishment.

The Sheriff had been eerily calm when Alan had told him that Guy had disappeared without a trace, and had turned to the wall so that Alan could not see his mien. He didn't say anything and this scared Alan more than the fit of rage he had expected. In private, he had often ridiculed the Sheriff, the way he always puffed up and the jokes nobody thought funny, but now Alan realised that Vaysey was more dangerous than ever. He swallowed and looked at the ground. "My lord…if I…you can count on me…"

Eventually, Vaysey turned around and looked at Alan, musing and with narrow eyes. "Boy," he hissed. "I don't count on anybody…We will return to Nottingham at once." He curled his mouth in a sneer. "Gisborne was a maudlin idiot and I hope on your behalf that you are not. Not a word to anybody about the circumstances of Gisborne's disappearance. Let them believe that he went away on my order and that Lady Marian….disappeared, never to be seen again." Then he leered at Alan and stepped toward him, grabbing his chin. "You should always be aware that women…" he downright spat the word. "….are lepers, Alan…lepers. Avoid them…..It will not be to your disadvantage," he purred.

Alan nodded and hurried to prepare for the departure back to Nottingham. It seemed as if the Sheriff would give him the chance he had always wanted, but Alan was not so sure anymore whether he was willing to pay the price the Sheriff expected him to pay.

It was a mystery to him, however, what Vaysey expected of spreading this cock and bull story about Gisborne's disappearance. Everybody knew that Gisborne would do _everything_ for Marian, and of course the soldiers, who had accompanied them, would talk. Be it as it might, he would be silent as a grave and prove to Vaysey that he had found a capable new right-hand man.

When Alan had left the room, Vaysey smiled. Despite the failure with Gisborne, he had something or rather _someone_ he was looking forward to: Robin Hood. By now he would enjoy his new chambers in Nottingham Castle, the dungeons.

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	4. Chapter 4

Illusions 4

I' m really sorry for the long delay, but my schedule was really tight. **This** chapter, however, was **not written by me**, but by a friend who wanted to start writing fanfiction and give it a try. So the translation is mine and partly my daughter's.

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Robin and Much were standing at the barn door and staring outside. The warriors were still sleeping, but there were guards and the moment of truth had finally come. It was now or never. Tears of despair welled up in Much's eyes. As much as he loved Robin, he didn't want to die, not today and not here. It had been his idea to throw a party for Robin in this barn. It was his fault that they would die. "A good day to die," Little John had said. No, this was not a good day to die.

Much turned around and walked to the other side of the barn, crouching in a corner and staring into space, while the others were preparing for the fight. Will and Djaq had chosen not to waste the precious time with sleeping last night and now they were standing close to the door, holding hands and whispering. A low whistle from Robin made everyone turn around; he nodded. Will and Djaq embraced for the last time and walked over to Robin. Little John had already positioned himself beside their leader.

"Much!" Robin looked at his former servant, who didn't even seem to notice. Even at the second time, he didn't move. Little John placed his hand on Robin's shoulder and shook his head. "Let him be. It's not important whether there's four or five of us. In his state of mind he probably won't even notice what happens. It's better this way." Robin nodded, tears in his eyes, and turned towards the door. The tension, the desperation and fear, but also the confidence that he was doing the right thing, were tangible.

"For England and for our King! Long live King Ri…" Robin couldn't continue, a loud „Stop!" interrupting him. Much had jumped up, giving everybody a wild glare. „That can't be everything! We could burn the barn down or dig a tunnel or we could build a kind of monster and frighten them or we could say we were leprous or we…."

"Much!" Robin walked over to him. We talked this through. There is no alternative."

„There must be," Much whispered, choked. "There's always a loophole."

Robin drew the desperate, wildly gesticulating man in his arms, trying to comfort him, but then he started when he heard Djaq's voice. "Money!" He looked up and turned to Djaq, who suddenly smiled at him. "Money," she repeated more strongly. "Of course! I should have thought of this much earlier. Robin, these are mercenaries, and they will follow everyone who pays a good price."

Robin frowned and then nodded; the idea didn't seem so far off. Meanwhile Much had calmed down and looked at them, still rather grim. "I know, you won't like this, but shrouds have no pockets and we could bargain the silver and gold in our camp for our lives."

Robin turned things over in his mind. He knew Djaq could move silently like a cat; maybe she would be able to sneak behind the lines of the mercenaries to fetch the money. "Djaq, you are going and we will try to distract the soldiers until you're back." She nodded and disappeared. They'd always racked their brains how she succeeded in vanishing and showing up again silently without anybody noticing. The guards would never see her, merely feeling a slight breeze when she scurried past them. Only Will was a little concerned and frowned.

„If anybody is able to do this, it is Djaq. Still, we should save our strength and hope that Djaq will be back by dawn. I'll take the first watch. Go to sleep!"

By the crack of dawn, there was still no trace of Djaq. Not only in the barn, everybody was rousing, no, also in the mercenaries' camp there were a few people awake. Robin hoped that the soldiers would not try to take the barn. Time was money, after all, and the less time they spent on this assignment, the sooner they could start the next. This was their hope, and so was the money Djaq would bring, which would make the mercenaries spare their lives.

"She won't come. They have captured her. She'is probably already dead," Will murmured softly. Robin put his hand on Will's shoulder to comfort him. "She's alive and will get us out of here. I'm certain of it." Why he was certain of it? The mercenaries would not have shied away from showing her up, torturing her or worse, which he couldn't even think of.

There was a certain restlessness about the mercenaries' camp; something seemed to disturb the daily routine. Were they preparing for the attack on the barn after all? Robin called the others and discussed the options that remained. They decided to stay in the barn and put up a fight until Djaq was back. He was peering outside, trying to bring some sense into what was happening. "They are forming up!" Will suddenly called out. Indeed, a raiding patrol was drawing close. In there wake was a big trunk they obviously intended to use as a battering ram. Much looked at Will nervously, who snorted contemptuously.

"For God, the King and England!" Robin shouted and drew his sword. The others followed suit. Then the trunk hit the barn door fort he first time. The wood was solid but already the first crossbeams were cracking. Again it hit. Wood was splintering… And again… And again… And again… The door would not keep them out forever, the gang knew. Suddenly they heard the captain call out; there was silence for a whole second. Then all hell broke loose. The soldiers were hammering away at the door, while a great disturbance was spreading in the camp behind them. They heard voices and loud cries. Robin tried to make out what was happening but the soldiers were blocking his line of vision. They heard the clashing of arms and the captain shouting. The barn door was finally giving way and burst open with a huge crash. Robin and his men were ready. The knew that they would lose their lives, here and now. They would never see their families again, Marian perhaps would never know what had really happened in Nettlestone Village, and the Sheriff and Prince John were one step closer to England's complete submission.

The swords were glistening in the daylight, their bodies were tense with anticipation. Yelling, they stormed towards their attackers. When they were past the door, however, they stopped in their tracks. There was no mercenary to be seen, at least none that wanted to attack them. They could see the last ones of them retreating to the hill. The gang froze. Only a commotion in the direction of Nettlestone Village shook them out of their trance. Djaq and the majority of the villagers came running towards them. Some of the peasants were still pointing their pitchforks skywards.

"Robin", Djaq called out, "they are gone!" – "How? Where?" They were all looking at Djaq, who told them excitedly how she had managed to get rid of the mercenaries. After she had found a way out, she had run to the village and alerted the villagers. She had appealed to their conscience, convincing them that Robin Hood had done so much for them already. While she had hurried on to the woods to get the money, the villagers had formed up. They had realized that they depended on Robin Hood and the gang. Without them they were at the mercy of the Sheriff and his men. Together with the villagers, who had armed themselves with everything they could find, Djaq had returned to the barn, where the first attack on the barn was already under way.

There was a great scuffle but Djaq managed to find the captain. It did not take very long to convince him; it was an easy choice for him. Even more money and no danger of injured or dead men. He did not care about the Sheriff. That was the risk one had to take with mercenaries; the highest bidder bought their loyalty. Also, who wanted to fight a retaliatory attack against an armed group of experienced soldiers?

When the mercenaries were out of sight, Robin and his men cheered and hugged. It was over. Nobody would forget this birthday.

Marian was still crouching in the corner where Guy had left her. Her face did not betray anything; her eyes were as empty as her heart. She did not feel anything and did not want to, either. Her thoughts were going in circles and her inner despair had given way to a feeling of powerlessness. Her life did not make sense anymore; her father was dead, the house burnt down, she was an outlaw and the two men in her life were gone forever. Robin was dead and to Guy, who felt only contempt for her, she was as good as dead.

The loud cawing of a bird startled her. Even without a goal in front of her, she could not stay in the cabin forever. Slowly she got up, looked around. Her gaze met an old blanket. It had a few holes but would protect her from the cold in the forest. She did not even search for food since the cabin had not been lived in for months.

In the dim light of dawn Marian left the cabin. The trees around her seemed colourless, the sky grey and life in the forest extinct. There was no sound to be heard, not even the crow that had scared her seemed to be there. Maybe it was dead and that was her punishment, her hell: A life without any contact to other beings whatsoever. Not even the Sheriff's men were following her. "Rubbish", she muttered, "They will look for me. I have to leave the forest." Since she didn't know where she was, she decided to follow the path that led west. She walked on the side of the path in order to scurry towards the shrubbery, should anyone approach her. She had not been the Night Watchman in the Sherwood Forest for nothing.

This part of the forest in South England seemed completely deserted. She had been walking for more than half a day without coming across anybody. Her stomach was grumbling. The water from a little brook she had drunk earlier filled it for a while, but not forever. She looked around. The forest changed. It was getting brighter and life seemed to return. She heard birds singing and the soft rustle of leaves. Suddenly something was flashing in front of her, she froze, then hurried to hide in the shrubs. Since the flashing did not seem to come any closer, she dared to walk on. Still in the shrubbery, she had reached the edge of the forest. A small farm lay in front of her. The flashing that had startled her was caused b a metal pot that had been leaned against the wall to dry and that was swinging in the wind. Next to it, someone had hung clothes on a line. There was nobody to be seen. Marian hesitated. She had never taken anything from anyone in need. But Lady Marian had to disappear. Her clothes would give her away as a noblewoman.

The dress from the clothes line was a little big and the scarf she wrapped around her head clumsily, was bothering her. But all that was better than being recognised and captured. Her belt and boots she kept, her other belongings she bundled up. She would have liked to leave them behind to compensate for the things she had stolen. But the risk of being traced was too great. She made a mental apology and left the farm in a hurry. In her bundle she also carried half a loaf of bread, a slice of cheese and some apples. Back on the path, she noticed that it was leading her north to places she did not want to return to. But did she have a choice? She followed the path towards an unknown future.


	5. Chapter 5

Please be lenient with occasional mistakes or clumsy expressions. I don't have a beta and somehow I'm not that sontent with my translation either. But I've reread the chapter several times had have not come up with better expressions; so I decided to post it.

Illusions 5

Vaysey would not have searched for him; this Guy was sure of. He knew that it was rather futile to look for someone in these endless woods. Nevertheless, Guy was not so careless to think himself safe. It was only a couple of hours he had gained, not more. The Sheriff's influence went a long way, like a cob web it covered big parts of the country. Prince John, who had instigated Vaysey and the other Black Knights to the scheme against King Richard, might think that the Sheriff was loyal to him, but Guy knew more. John Softsword had got only a small percentage of the taxes Vaysey had raised. The majority had been used to buy supporters for the Sheriff all over the country. After King Richard's death his brother would also meet an untimely end and Vaysey would try to use the inevitable chaos to his advantage.

Prince John mistook the Sheriff for a little, self-important man he could use for his purposes; he didn't know that many knights had been bought by Vaysey. This network could be Guy's downfall, a contretemps and he might lose freedom and life. In these short hours when he had lain in the dilapidated hut in the forest, he had come to the decision to leave for France. Many an English nobleman had found his way and besides, he knew France; he had spent a part of his childhood in the Guienne.

He would miss England, but there was no other way and money wasn't a problem anymore.

His body ached; it was time that he took a break again. In the charburner's hut he had not slept and he had been in the saddle too long. His horse was exhausted and Guy felt how weariness overtook him too. Shortly thereafter he reached a village. The inn was small and dirty, but he didn't care. Guy gave his stallion to the servant and crawled into his bed only minutes later. Only when the sun was high in the sky, he woke. After an ample breakfast, he bought some supplies from the innkeeper and rode on.

Guy knew that he would draw attention to himself with his black leather clothing. He had to get rid of it; at the latest shortly before he journeyed to France. Besides, it was impossible to stay in the saddle so long day after day. His horse was excellent, but he knew that the ride had taken its toll. Unless he wanted it to break down, he had to take a break.

Some days later he arrived at London; this city was swarming with people and big enough to shelter him for a short time. Guy had several garments made and the knight, who boarded the ship to France, didn't look different from the other English noblemen on the vessel.

Looking at the horizon and the land appearing in the mist, he remembered how he had made this journey for the first time, a little, timid boy at that time, but yet a hatred in his heart towards Richard Plantagenet, which had never withered. His grandmother had been a benign woman, but she had to pinch and scrape and he had hated his shabby garments and the old weapons. She had not known what to do with the withdrawn boy, although the scars on his back had been telltale, and she had understood the reason for his distrustful, nearly hostile demeanour.

Guy breathed freely. These times lay long behind him; now he had enough money for a carefree life, although he would not possess power and influence he had dreamt of, but it was futile to think about it. He had awoken from his illusions about the Sheriff and Marian just in time; never again he would make himself dependant from other people and never again he would believe words of love and trust from a woman.

It was a rich city he had chosen as his new residence: Bordeaux; the contrast to Nottingham could not have been bigger and Guy breathed freely. He didn't know how long he would stay here, but he liked what he saw and he had enough money to enjoy his life.

Today, it was market day and the city swarmed with people. The sun glittered on the rooftops and the urchins shouted in the streets. Potters offered mugs and plates for sale, basket makers were sitting at the corner of the marketplace, and the scent of spices tickled the noses. Countrywomen were standing behind their pushcarts with loads of apples, grapes and turnips; in the cages chickens cackled and doves cooed.

He entered the tavern where a deafening noise greeted him. At the sight of Guy the tavern wenches began to whisper and one of them flashed a knowing glance at him. The magnificent looking knight, who had come to Bordeaux a few weeks ago, attracted the attention of many a women. He was tall and broad-shouldered, muscular without being too beefy; he had dark, slightly curled hair and a short full beard. Sometimes his light eyes shimmered grey, another time blue. He was definitely a ladies' man, although so far none of them had managed to become his favourite.

The laughter at the table subsided briefly when Guy approached the table. At first sight besides his good looks the English night seemed to be the same as many other noblemen who came to Bordeaux. He was dressed fashionably; he gambled and drank with the others. But it was not only the chill in his blue eyes and the arrogance he radiated, which made the men react cautiously. The other week he had broken a horse trader's wrist without further ado, who had tried to sell him a mare with fined down teeth and some days later a drunkard in the tavern had found himself with Guy's dagger at his throat when he had accused him of cheating with the dice. He had sobered very quickly after that and no one had dared to insult Guy after that.

One of the men pushed a chair aside for Guy and he sat down. Adrienne brought the usual tankard with wine for Guy and he put his arms around her hips and patted her absentmindedly. Obviously, he paid more attention to the men playing cards today. Adrienne had hoped that she would share his bed again tonight, but when she set down bread and venison on the table and he didn't pay attention to her, she left the table, disappointed.

Yvette grinned gleefully. That served her right, the silly goose! She shouldn't have boasted and told everybody how often she had carried on with Sir Guy. Probably she had exaggerated; no man could….although…Jeanne had told her…oh là là!..._One_ woman didn't seem to be enough to satisfy his appetite. Yvette smiled sadly. She knew that she had no chance whatsoever to arouse this knight's attention with her pockmarked face. How much she would have liked to…."Yvette! You're not paid for standing around and sleeping. Get wine!" She sighed and set to work.

It was three months now that Guy had been living in France now, far away from the Sheriff's reach. Nobody knew him and he could be content. For the first time in years he was able to call the shots, nobody telling him what to do, and he could enjoy life. He _should_ be content, but he was not; he realised that he was not made for this kind of life. Sometimes when he was alone at night, he remembered the dreams he had harboured, the Gisborne estates, Marian, their children…. He had made a fool of himself, believing in love and in Marian's pure heart, believing that she would be able to cleanse his soul.

What a hypocrite she had been – but still he had not been able to kill her. Even when he had realised the extent of her betrayal, he had been too weak to let her pay. Guy laughed out loud and the maidservant, who had put meat, bread and wine on the table, had been startled by the grim expression on her lord's face. Sometimes the lord was downright scary.

Guy had been lucky with the dices and had won another mare and a fur lined cloak. It had been louder than usual and the landlord had kicked out several drunken guests. Now it was quiet; only a few men were sitting at the tables, most of them with their heads on their arms, others with a wench on their lap. Guy was not in the mood for female company tonight. The wine had been good and he felt a rather pleasant drowsiness.

It was late when he stepped out of the tavern; he inhaled the balmy breeze. The moon was high on the sky. Guy was walking slowly towards the house he had rented, when he stumbled over something that was lying in the midst of the street. He nearly lost his balance; he heard a groan and in the wan moonlight he saw who it was.


	6. Chapter 6

**I felt like translating yesterday and here you are. My schedule will be l little tight in the next few weeks, but I promise to post another chapter before my holiday in July. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. I hope I didn't forget to reply to anybody.**

Illusions 6

It was a fellow countryman, Roger of Hale, who used to sit at a table in a corner of the tavern, but who had barely talked to anybody. When they had seen each other for the first time, both of them had started; too astonishing was the similarity between them. The talks in the tavern had stopped for a moment when the two men had faced each other. They could have been brothers. The newcomer was nearly as tall as Sir Guy; he had wavy black hair, an aquiline nose and blue eyes.

"There's no love lost between them," Antoine, the landlord of the tavern whispered to another customer, when Guy had talked only briefly to the other man and then turned around not paying attention to him any longer. Then he begun to polish the counter vigorously; he didn't want to cross Sir Guy. You never knew how he would react and the Gisborne's family affairs were nothing to him.

Guy had seen that Hale would have like to get to know him better, but he was not interested. After the first encounter, he had not paid attention to Hale and after a while everybody knew that the knight would sit in the corner, mostly gloomy and alone. Obviously, he had got plastered today.

_This drunken idiot!_ Guy wrinkled his nose. Although the moonlight was not bright enough to see everything, the odour was enough to make him reel back. The man had pissed himself and puked his guts out. He looked down at Hale derisively and kicked him in the ribs. "Damn! Sleep it off elsewhere!" he spat and turned away when the knight grabbed his cloak. "Help me…" he groaned. Guy laughed despite himself. He of all people a merciful Samaritan? Spleneticly he was going to shake the drunkard's hand off when it loosened and fell to the ground. The man didn't move and no sound was to be heard. Probably he was dead, but this meant nothing to him. He frowned and walked away. Guy was already a few yards away when he looked back. The man was still lying at the same place. Guy swore and went back. Perhaps it was the similarity, perhaps the fact that he was an Englishman like him…He needed somebody, who would lift the twerp; he would be damned if he touched him!

There was still light in the tavern, the landlord was clearing the mugs away and a male servant was rolling a barrel full of wine to the annex. Only a few minutes later a cart rumpled towards the house guy had rented. By now, he regretted the impulse to help the knight; disgruntled, he put a coin into the servant's hand and entered his house. It had been a perfect evening and now he had ruined it himself because of had been _charitable_. Guy snorted.

The servant dumped the senseless knight on the courtyard and the housekeeper made no bones about him. Two buckets of cold water and he regained his consciousness very quickly; he spluttered and blinked and glanced at Guy, who was looking down at him, unmoved. "Thank you," he whispered and tried to sit up. Guy's servant Pierre clasped his hand and propped him up and then led him to a chamber where he removed the wet garments. Exhausted Roger of Hale fell into the bed, sleeping as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The housekeeper set a steaming bowl with porridge, bread, milk and eggs in front of Guy. His guest had not appeared yet, but Guy hadn't expected him either. He had given orders to prepare some garments for Hale he could wear until his own soiled clothing had been washed and dried.

It was nearly noon when Roger of Hale left his chamber. Guy scrutinised him pensively; something was wrong with him. His eyes were blood-shot and his complexion ashen, but this didn't come from one night of drunkenness. His hands trembled when he took a slice of bread. "I want to thank you again," he said hoarsely. "You could have left me lying out there."

"I won't make a habit of it," Guy snarled. "You should know when you've got enough."

Roger grimaced, but it was a sad smile. "That's not it. It was not more than two tankards of wine…Perhaps I should drink _more_ to get it over with," he murmured.

Seeing Guy's questioning look he laughed mirthlessly and added. "You needn't be afraid; you're not in danger. It's a family' disease, you know? Nobody knows the reason, but my father died when my two brothers and I were still little boys and none of us…got older than 25 years…My mother died of grief; I'm the last of the family. My sister, she could have lived…it's only the men…but she was killed by a drunken horseman." He seemed to talk more to himself than to Guy; perhaps he was glad to be able to talk about the whole thing. Guy didn't interrupt him and Roger continued. "I thought I'd make it to England. My aunt is living in Brycgstow. She should know that our branch of the family will die out. She will have got my letter by now, but probably I won't…."

A long silence ensued between them and Roger seemed to be grateful that Guy obviously didn't feel compelled to say something pious or some words of cold comfort. Eventually Roger pushed the plate and the cup aside and got up. "I will bring you back the garments as soon as possible," he said and walked to the door. "It was…" Abruptly he collapsed. With two long strides Guy reached the man, who was lying on the floor, groaning. When he looked down at him, he nearly felt, as if he were looking at a version of himself, the more so as Roger was wearing Guy's garments.

With Pierre's help Guy brought the knight back to the chamber. Roger was lying in the pillows, exhausted. His eyes were closed, his face deathly pale and he had dark circles under his eyes. As if feeling Guy's gaze, he opened his eyes. "Please…fetch a priest," he whispered and Guy nodded, getting up.

The priest, who left the chamber an hour later was very young, a milksop, who had probably just been ordained. He had been in the city for only a few days and had not learned yet to deal with death. He looked shocked and obviously didn't know what to say to Guy. "It is…" He licked his lips. "…certainly not easy for your. Your...brother…is he very near to you? "Guy stared at him for a few seconds without comprehending until he understood what the priest had to think because of the stunning similarity between him and Hale. His…brother…nobody knew the knight's name but him… Without a word, Guy nodded. He didn't hear the young priest's words of comfort; he only saw the gate that would open to him by Roger of Hale's death. It was not that guy hated France; he had loved his French grandmother, but he craved for the green hills and forests of England.

Roger didn't die this very day, but it was plain that he was wasting away. Despite himself Guy felt sympathy for the man; perhaps the similarity was the reason that hale told him everything about his family. The Hales were not from Bordeaux but from the area around Toulouse. Roger's father had not been rich and had not owned much besides his weapons and his horse. He had gone into service like many knights without possessions and had died early. Roger was the youngest and the only one who had survived so far. Roger didn't know why this strange man was sitting at his bedside and was listening patiently when Roger was telling his childhood pranks. Before he had fallen ill, Roger had been a kind and gullible man who had liked to laugh, the opposite of Guy, not that this was important any longer. It was a miserable and painful death. Spasms of coughing shook the weak body and he convulsed heavily. Blood ran from his nose and his mouth and in death agony his hand held Guy's in a vice grip.

Pale and shaken Guy looked down on Roger, when he was lying still on the bed at last. His face didn't look peaceful; he had known that he would die, but he had not gone easily, he had wanted to live, had fought. It was the first time in awhile that Guy felt something like regret about somebody's death.

The priests had told the servants about the grief Guy felt over his brother's death and this was the story everyone seemed to believe. What other reason could he have to pay for the man's funeral and several Masses to be read?

Several weeks later Guy left Bordeaux for England, on his hand the ring Roger had worn, on his side the sword with the Hale's crest and in his memory many a story Roger had told him.


	7. Chapter 7

**This is another chapter my friend wrote; I only did the translation. Enjoy! There is something at the end of the chapter that might offend some people. It's only this one hint and there won't be anything more of that sort. But don't you agree that the Sheriff is scum?**

Illusions 7

Marian brushed a stand of hair out of her face, covering her locks again with her kerchief. She sighed. Nothing had remained of the proud noblewoman she had been. How silly and childish she had been before! Only now she had realised what the word _working_ meant, getting up before dawn and falling on her pallet, exhausted, sometimes near midnight. Her comfortable life was over as well as the Night watchman's adventures. They had been merely adventures as she knew now. She had talked herself into believing that she could really help the people bringing them some food and sometimes clothing. But it had been a drop in the bucket. Even Robin's activities hadn't affected anyone or anything than the area around Nottingham. Probably nobody at Prince John's court had even heard of a man called Robin Hood. Vaysey would not have admitted that he was not able to catch an outlaw. Robin had not changed anything and now - she swallowed - he was dead.

She tried to push these thoughts away and watched her mirror image in the pond. She had become too slender, but also more mature. She wouldn't complain; she had a roof over her head, something to eat and hat survived. It had been nearly three months, since Guy had left her in the hut, three months she had not heard anything of Guy and Nottingham. She wondered what he'd do. He was on the run as she was. Or had he returned to Vaysey? No, he was ambitious but not spineless. Why hadn't she been able to turn to him? She had seen him change and had known he loved her. He would have protected her. He was magnificent, so tall and dark and…

"Cara?" Marian started. Her „new self" had been called. She had to go back. Slowly she got up and straightened her clothes, took the freshly washed bundle of garments and walked down the path, where the other maid servant was waiting for her.

Robin was standing at the abyss looking down. How should he go on? Marian had run away with Gisborne at the first opportunity. She hadn't even tried to get help to free him and the gang when they had been surrounded by the mercenaries in the barn. Marry him, my ae. Back then in the tree when she had suggested that she should be taken hostage and go back to the castle to spy for Robin, she had only wanted to be near Gisborne. How could he have been so blind? She had never cared for him. He had only been a toy for her, a means to rebel and to satisfy her adventurous streak. He had not much going for it, an outlaw, living in the woods, especially now that the King was held ransom. At first he had thought it merely gossip, but then more and more sources had confirmed that King Richard had been captured in Vienna.

The gang had to choose now between helping the populace and helping Richard. They had decided to make their contribution for the King's release. Only he would be able to root out the evildoers who would ruin England and to give back freedom to the people. Robin didn't know, however, that the populace couldn't care less who ruled England. They had to survive. One king after another, some merely month, some of them years, their fame had been but a transient shadow. They would love whoever was able to grant food on the table. Robin and his friends had given them coin and food for a while and now they gave this coin for the King's ransom, a king who was far away anyway. Their only glimmer of hope had faded away.

Robin looked down again; one step and everything was over. He abandoned the thought as quickly as it had come: Will had signaled that the Sheriff's weekly transport was on his way. Since Alan had become the Sheriff's right hand man, it was more difficult to ambush them; Alan knew what the gang were thinking and what they would do. He had turned his back on them for good and the attack on the camp had probably only been the beginning. Fortunately, Robin had expected something like this and had told his friends to move the camp.

A whistle – the wagon had arrived; Robin and his friends were ready. Hopefully it wasn't a trap.

Alan leaned back and straightened. This was how he had imagined his life: comfortable chambers in the castle, excellent food, a maid servant, a groom and lots of money. The only thing he had to do for this was betraying Robin. Since King Richard wouldn't come back anyway, this had been the obvious decision. Guy had disappeared and Alan had risen in the Sheriff's boon. He commanded the soldiers and as Vaysey's right hand man he had some more amenities – and tasks, he mused, disgusted.

„ALLLAAAAAN!" Sometimes the Sheriffs voice nearly made him vomit. „Where is my ALAN?" Butt his was the price he was paying fort he life he was leading. „Here, I'm almost there." Alan got up. He would try not to dwell on it and ignore his inner voice. "Well, what are we going to do today?" Vaysey purred. Alan had opened the door, peeking into the room. The Sheriff stood in front of his desk, hiding something behind his back. "I've always wanted a dog, but my mother thought they had too many fleas…you don't have fleas, have you….ALAN?" Alan closed his eyes and groaned inwardly, then looked at the Sheriff again, giving him a forced smile. He closed the door. "No, of course not."

„Then I want you to wear this….and only this…."

A leash – Alan swallowed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Somebody took offense because of the contents of the last chapter my friend wrote (Alan and the Sheriff). I m taking this very seriously; there is only this little hint, though, and there will not bemore. I think that it is not ooc for the Sheriff.**

Illusions 8

_Meanwhile…_

The last days with Roger had taken their toll on Guy, more than he would admit to himself. Roger's face and the hint of a smile when he had talked about his childhood….If _he_ had lain in this bed, what would he had talked about? About his _father, _aboutthe fact that he had known early enough that he, Guy, was the reason for his mother's unhappy marriage? _You're a bastard Guy, although you bear my name._ What would he have talked about? Of himself, standing helplessly beside his mother when Guillaume of Gisborne had hit her again and again? How he had tried to protect her and had pummelled the man with his little fists? Eventually the little boy had buried all his feelings inside and had never wept again, not even when Guillaume had whipped him cruelly, not even at his mother's grave. Sometimes he still saw her lying on the floor, a pool of blood under her head where she had fallen after her husband's fist had hit her in the face….What would he have to tell, if he died this very moment? Nothing, there was nothing he would like to remember; the few happy moments in his life had been nothing but illusions, illusions of life and illusions of success.

And now he would give Roger's kinsmen the illusion of a doting nephew.

The instant he rode into the courtyard, Guy knew that he had made a mistake. Obviously, the husband of Roger's aunt had just as little money as Roger's father. He looked around. The estate seemed to be copious; stables were adjusted to the house and the buildings was new but barely adequate for a baron. What kind of rubbish had Roger told him?

Chickens cackled and a few ragged children were playing in the yard, staring at him for a few seconds and then forgetting about him again. Obviously strangers didn't mean anything here. Guy dismounted from his horse; even if he should decide not to stay here - and at the moment he was very much inclined to journey on rather quickly – he was exhausted after the strenuous voyage. Everything remained quiet and Guy crossed the dusty yard to the door of the main building; he knocked and looked around again. Heavens, the Gringstows didn't live better than some peasants.

The door opened and in the a young, plump maidservant looked at him questioningly and wiped her hand on her skirt. "Fetch your master or mistress, I…." Guy said, and then heard footfall behind him and turned around, facing a woman, who looked at him, friendly. She was no longer young but still a beautiful woman; there were few silver strands in her raven hair and only the hint of wrinkles around her generous mouth and her fair blue grey eyes. Her azure dress was of good fabric and embroidered on neck and sleeves, but it had obviously seen better days. This had to be Anne of Gringstow, his _aunt_. Guy smiled at her affectionately. This was what Roger would have done; for himself it was only the movement of his facial muscles. Her eyes widened and she reciprocated his smile. "Roger? You have to be Roger." When Guy nodded, she clasped his hands. "I'm so happy to see you. We got your letter months ago and were afraid…." Guy had stiffened involuntarily. He hated it to be touched. Anne mistook it for embarrassment. "You are not well, are you? Come on in. Osgood will be back any moment."

Guy followed Anne into the house, while a groom led his horse into the stables. The great hall was tidy but rather simple. Shortly afterwards the maid put a bowl with steaming stew on the table, fresh bread, water and wine. Guy enjoyed the meal and pretended not to notice Anne's glances. She had believed him to be her nephew because of the stunning family likeness. But he knew he had to be careful. Sated, he sat back in his chair and looked at his aunt.

"I'm so glad that you've come," she repeated and smiled. "The last time I saw you, you were four years old and of course you don't remember me. When I visited your mother years ago, you had already begun your education as a squire. I would have loved to meet you again under …better circumstances. This calamity…I still can't believe it…" Ann smiled wistfully, her eyes moist; she blinked. "I noticed your astonished look. You were surprised when you saw our house. We have not been spared from harm either. Not far from here are the remains of our castle. Lightning struck and everything burned down. We were lucky to save our lives and most of the horses. A part of the harvest was destroyed too. Nevertheless we are happy that…."

Right at that moment, the door opened and Anne halted. "Osgood!" she greeted the huge bearded man who had entered. "Osgood, my nephew Roger has arrived."

"Good to see you, son," Osgood of Gringstow said evenly and placed his hand on Guy's shoulder. He was even taller than Guy, an imposing figure, at least 6''4. He seemed good-natured though. His grey scrubby hair and his wrinkles indicated that he was a lot older than Anne, but Guy saw how lovingly his wife glanced at him.

"It's been a while since we've got your letter and we already thought that you hadn't made it." Osgood said, sitting down. The maid placed another bowl of stew in front of him and he tucked in. "You did good coming to us…," he added. "…although your aunt has probably already told you that things changed around here. This is everything we managed to save. We don't know whether we'll be able to rebuild Gringstow…But our house is your home as long as you want to stay."

Guy was accustomed to hiding his thoughts and feelings, but he realised that he had not been prepared to meet these people and the welcome they had given him. Damn! What had he done to come here of all places! He would stick out like a sore thumb, like a raven amidst of jolly sparrows. Anne noticed how silent he remained. „You know, Roger," she said, touching his hand again. "Your mother used to say that nothing could weigh you down, that you were always looking on the bright side of life. But it seems she was wrong; it has to be terrible for you." Abruptly, she rose and clasped him in her arms. He didn't dare to move; best, he would have liked to shake off her arms.

"Anne, let go of him," Osgood mumbled. "These gooey women!. Come on, Roger, let's go outside and look after your horse. " Guy understood that this was the way Osgood wanted to give him comfort and distraction. Ann released Guy and blinked the tears in her eyes away, while Osgood rose, sliding his arm around his wife's shoulders, caressing her tenderly.

Guy followed Osgood to the stables, where the groom had already rubbed down the horse and had given it water and oats. "It has never been easy for us, especially for Anne that we don't have children," Osgood said eventually. "Two miscarriages and a girl dying shortly after her birth…It will be good for Anne that you are here now. Be lenient if she tries to mother you a little. You are the last of her kinsmen."

Some time later they returned to the house. "there is something I wanted to give to you," Guy told Anne. "Mother would want you to have this." He fetched a small silver ring from his back, giving it to her, then took a little pouch with peppercorns for Osgood. This should resolve any doubts they might have about his identity.

Of course, the Gringstows didn't know that Guy had much more with him. But neither Anne nor Osgood would search his things. Nevertheless, he would hide the money carefully. Content, Guy went to bed this evening. He was back in England and was safe here for now. As soon as he had been accepted as Roger of Hale in the neighbourhood, he could make further plans.

Osgood had been right. Anne glowed and was happy to have her nephew's company. To Guy this kind of relationship was new and unfamiliar and he needed a while until he could deal with it more openly. Guy helped Osgood with his work and he realised that he came to like the older man despite himself. Since his childhood, Guy had been a loner. He had made an exception with Marian and what good had it done him. He had been determined not to be so careless again, but Osgood really seemed to like him.

Breaking in the yearlings was hard work. "You know," Osgood said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "When Anne told me you'd come I agreed, of course. After all, you are her nephew and had lost all your family. But I was somehow worried how you would cope with your new life here. Rumour had it that you were a charmer but flippant and unreliable. Don't get me wrong, but probably your family's death has changed you. I'm glad that you are here and ….would be very proud to have a son like you."

He harrumphed and went over to the water trough to wash. Guy remained behind, glad that he had not been forced to say something. If he had had parents like Anne and Osgood, his life would have taken a different tack. He would not be able to stay here forever, but perhaps he could postpone his departure for another few months.

Some weeks later he accompanied his uncle to town. They would try to sell some of the horses, the basis for being able to rebuild Gringstow. Guy knew that Anne and Osgood secretly hoped to tie him to them and to Gringstow. Osgood hat no kinsmen either and so Anne's nephew Roger would inherit everything. What should he do?

Brycgstow was teeming with people. Osgood was well known in the city and introduced his nephew to some of his friends. Business had been good and they were satisfied, having sold the yearlings for a good prize. They would pay a visit to the tavern before they would ride back home.

Osgood grinned, licking the beer foam from his lips. "I've seen the girls giving you the eye. Most of them wouldn't be suitable for you, but have you seen the daughter of my friend Lionel. She's lovely and of marriageable age, just fifteen. She will also get a considerable dowry; so, what do you think of marriage?"

_Marrry? Him?_ The laughter stuck in his craw.

"Son, you look as if I had talked about your funeral. Relax, but think about it."

Absent-minded, Guy sipped his beer. Perhaps Osgood was right. Nobody had said anything about love, only of marriage and one wench was as good as the other. A pretty face and much money wouldn't do any harm either.

This was not possible! Guy of Gisborne in Brycgstow? Alan didn't trust his eyes. He stood in the shade at a table of the tavern and Guy had not noticed him so far. He looked different with shorter hair and a beard, but this was him. He was talking animatedly to an older man beside him, even laughing now and then.

Gisborne couldn't know anything about Vaysey's plan. The Sheriff had entrusted Alan with a task nobody knew about. On the other hand….could Vaysey have lied to him? Was it possible that Gisborne hadn't done a runner after all but was staying here at the Sheriff's orders? And if so, why had Vaysey sent him, Alan, to Brycgstow? He didn't believe in coincidences.

Probably Vaysey didn't trust him but mistook him for Robin's spy. He used him, humiliated him, so that he felt sick only thinking about the Sheriffs little games. How often he had envied Gisborne being the Sheriff's right hand man, but these times were over. Alan knew, however, that he had not the strength to leave. He had become inured to the good life and people didn't know what role he played, come night. In public he had replaced Gisborne, but this incident aroused suspicion in him whether he had been deceived. If Gisborne was here on the Sheriff's orders, the message he, Alan, had got from one Jules de Beaudelaire, of the Black Knights, would be useless. But Vaysey had made a mistake; he had not reckoned that he would arrive in Brycgstow so fast.

He would have to find out if this was really Gisborne and would keep this knowledge for himself. Shortly after he had got to know from the landlord that the older man was Osgood of Gringstow, whose family had been living here for generations and that _Gisborne_ was his nephew, who had arrived from France some months ago. Perhaps it was only a similarity; sometimes things like this happened, but…damn….

At this very moment he heard the man shouting that the landlord should bring another round. This voice he knew, and this was _one_ coincidence too much – gotcha!


	9. Chapter 9

Illusions 9

I needed to change history for this chapter. In fact, King Richard's captivity was about 1 ½ years, but Ishortened it to ½ year. It didn't make sense for me to have Marian work as a maid for such a long time or leave Guy with his _uncle_ and _aunt_. I also hope that I don't offend anyone because the way I describe the famous king's personality is anything but flattering.

Again, please be lenient with mistakes. English is not my first language, only a hobby.

* * *

Alan knew it was best, if he didn't talk about this incident. But what was Guy doing in this knight's company? By now, Alan knew that Osgood of Gringstow was a faithful subject of King Richard and made no bones about it. _But of course! __Gringstow hadn't known his nephew before…Clever, Gisborne, very clever!_ Certainly, Roger of Hale's corpse was buried in some forest in France. This didn't explain everything, but probably something big was behind this, why else this masquerade?

But then Alan's smile faded. Obviously, Guy had come alone to Brycgstow and that meant Marian was not alive any more. Guy had realised where her loyalties and her love lay and that she had only used him. His blank stare at the inn when Guy had asked him whether she loved Robin Hood, had been telltale. Alan swallowed. He had always hoped that she was still alive that she might have been on the run with Guy. It had been obvious that Guy loved her and equally obvious for him that she had been attracted to him despite herself. Robin hadn't seen it and she had probably deceived herself. It hadn't been just a show.

But then he shrugged. Often enough he had tried to protect Marian and it was _her_ fault what had happened. He was not her keeper after all. She had not known how to stop and Guy was not a person to be trifled with. She had thought she could tame the beast but had been mistaken after all. The end had probably been inevitable.

He was not at fault and he had to look out for number one. After Guy and Osgood of Gringstow had left, he tossed a few coins on the table and walked off. Even if the message he had to convey to the Sheriff was probably useless, he would deliver it dutifully. His mien hardened. Sometimes he was disgusted with himself, but it was too late now.

In a good mood, Guy and Osgood returned to Gringstow and Osgood stretches his long legs under the table; bread, bacon and eggs were served and he ate with a big appetite. Guy smiled; Osgood always ate with a big appetite. Then he pushed his plate away, looking lovingly at Anne, the joy in his eyes obvious. "We've sold them all, Anne, and at a prize I wouldn't have expected. That means…we could begin to rebuild the castle."

Guy had not eaten much. Part of him wanted to run away since he was well aware what Osgood's words meant. Another part wanted….After his experience he had sworn to himself not get to love anybody ever again, but with Roger's kinsmen he had thrown all caution to the winds. Dn, sometimes he felt as if he were Roger of Hale, had nearly forgotten his life as Guy of Gisborne. Sometimes he wished he could stay here forever….And why not? He had nobody and his former plans had failed completely. This part of the country was remote and far away from Nottingham; so he would be safe. Never in his life had he felt at ease as he did now, Anne and Osgood replacing the parents he never had. Even his mother….she had been too weak and after a while hadn't even tried. He was alive now; this was more than only existence and only concentrating on revenge.

Perhaps he had a future here, a castle, even children… He didn't remember how the girl had looked like Osgood had talked about, but he didn't care. All these thoughts flashed through his mind when he heard Osgood's voice again. "What do _you_ think, Roger?"

"I like your idea," he said, smiling and Anne got up, embracing him. Osgood nodded, warmth in his eyes. They were always friendly and cordial, but still his heart was not used to this, still he felt unsure and awkward. Two days later they began to rebuild the castle.

I'm so glad that the boy found the way to us, Osgood," Anne whispered to her husband at night in his arms. "When he came here, he was hard up, but now he is laughing again and I know that he likes to be with us. It is as if a weight was lifted from his mind."

Osgood caressed his wife. Everything would come out all right and Roger would become a worthy heir for Gringstow.

Numbly, Robin was sitting on a little hill overlooking the forest and looked over the endless green. The message he had got had changed everything. Everything! King Richard was free and had returned to England. How he had yearned for this day, but had sometimes not dared to believe that it would happen.

Prince John was weak and not called John Softsword without reason – of course only behind his back. With him as a king, England would have perished; he was ambitious, that was obvious. Henry the Lion had demanded a ransom of 150000 marks of silver for Richard. 150000 marks! This was an unthinkable amount of money and Prince John had refused to pay. This would impoverish England, he had stated sanctimoniously. Robin had been afraid that this refusal would be the death sentence for King Richard. But Queen Eleanor had made sure that her son was released. King Richard had sold estates and jewels for the crusade, but now his mother turned everything into money what was possible, silver decoration, chandeliers, silverware, jewels. She even turned to the church for _donations_. Taxes were raised and many a family was reduced to poverty. "More taxes," a peasant had murmured. "And what for? For a king, who doesn't even speak English. There is rumour that he wanted to sell London. London!" he had looked at Robin and shook his head. "So much money for a single man. Can't be right. I don't care who is king; they shall leave us in peace."

Why didn't the people understand that Richard _was_ England? How long was it that he had seen him in the Holy Land? It had been in Acre, where Gisborne had tried to murder the king.

Gisborne! Hatred blazed up in Robin when he thought of this man; Marian….Robin bit his lips. Who could she do this to him, how could she do this to King Richard to betake herself with this traitor? She had told him that she loved him and only reacted for the sake of appearances and he had believed her. He'd even proposed to her. Her treason hurt, it hurt so badly.

Perhaps it was good that he had other tasks now. He would help to capture King Richard's enemies, who had made themselves at home everywhere in England… He would hunt Vaysey and the Black Knight like rabid dogs and they would be hanged. This time nothing would come in between and Gisborne would pay for everything. He should have blinded him, the traitor. If he hadn't hesitated too long then….But now he would really make Gisborne pay and he would be lucky if he died on the gallows. If it were up to him….

Vaysey was still on the run and with him many who had stuck by him – including Alan. It still hurt thinking of him. He had been a friend once, and they had fought together for King Richard. What had gone wrong and how could he be so wrong about Alan, his envy and his ambition? He would have given him the shirt of his back. Since Gisborne's disappearance Alan had become the Sheriff's right hand man and had not been a more lenient master than Sir Guy before him. It was as if he had forgotten completely where he had come from…and probably he had. But he would get his come-uppance too.

Only some days later Robin was on his way to London. Much accompanied him, but his other friends remained at Nottingham. Robin didn't want to believe it at first. Little John had shook his head. "That's not our fight any longer, Robin, and I don't even know if you are one of us. Don't you care that people are starving? Are you Robin Hood or are you back to being the Earl of Huntington. Do you even think about anybody besides King Richard? I will make a new life for me and the others and will try to help people in Nottingham." He had looked at Robin and had stared at him angrily and musing." I wonder, if you will even know us a few years from now. You've changed, Robin. Go back to your King." He had spit out, had turned around without looking back. Djaq and Will had made their farewells, but it was quite clear that they were disappointed by Robin.

Furious, Robin urged his mount on. What did they understand of politics and how important it was to safeguard Richard's reign. He would move on; there was nothing more urgent than dispose of Richard's enemies. They dealt with things they thought to be problems whereas England's future was at stake.

"Cara, do you even hear what I'm saying? Why, you can't just leave the broom where…."

Baffled, Alice looked at the new maiden, who dropped her broom and apron and walked out without looking back. Stepping out of the house, Marian drew a deep breath. This morning, a herald had announced that King Richard had been set free and had returned to England. She was free…Vaysey and the likes of him were either dead or had run like rats. She had always known that this ugly, little, self important man was only a coward. She was not in danger from him any more, but why should she return to Nottingham. Her father and Robin were dead and Knighton Hall had gone up in smoke. Had she been happy at first, she felt lonely and forsaken. She shivered, although it was warm and sunny. She was alone. But she could do something; she would join the King, would tell him what Robin and his friends had done for him. King Richard had been Robin's friend….and then? She didn't know.

It was odd; she had been hiding here and hoped for the day to come when she could be herself again. Her days had been filled with work and she had sunk to her pallet, too tired to think of anything but surviving. She had never thought of the future and now the day had come and she was afraid. She had to go to London, but she didn't know, if she would be admitted to the King. Nothing reminded of Lady Marian, who had dazzled Robin and Guy with her beauty. Her hair was matted, her hands raw and her fingernails broken. Lady Marian had possessed many precious garments; the maid Cara owned two shabby, raddled dresses.

Nevertheless, Marian knew that she had to be careful. Many men would hump any woman no matter how she looked like. It was good that she was used to wearing breeches as well as skirts and it was convenient that the washing was on the line right now. She didn't feel guilty taking shirt, breeches and cap; often enough the peasant had tried to feel her up and she had earned little enough coin.

Shortly after, Marian left the farm, her hair covered with the cap and her face smirched with dirt. A trader gave her a ride to London but took nearly all her money. But what was she to do?

She had been in London for two days, but still Marian didn't know how to get in the palace. A single glance at the dirty, ragged boy had been enough and the guard at the portal of the Tower had looked at her threateningly. "Get lost! Do you think the King has time for beggars?" A tad milder he added. "Next week, there will be an alms dealing." As if this had already been to kind, he spit out and held out his lance. "And now off you go!" he growled.

Like many other beggars she had spent the night in the street, her bundle under her head. She was desperate; this way she had not chance to get into the tower, and she didn't have any money to buy a decent dress and change back into Lady Marian. If Robin were with her….but she would never see him again; he was dead, murdered by Vaysey. Tears filled her eyes, but then….Robin's _name_ might open doors for her. At the portal, she saw another guard, a soldier, who had not seen her yet. Determined, she approached him, not backing away from his dark mien. "I've got a message for the King from Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntington." The guard surveyed her, suspicious. " A message from the Earl of Huntington? Give it to me then!"

Marian shook her head. „It's not a letter and I am to tell the King himself."

"Just go in, Martin…" one of the soldiers said slowly to his comrade and darted a meaningful look at him. "…and tell them about the boy's message."

Martin disappeared in the courtyard. Only some minutes later he knocked at a heavy oaken door and entered. "My lord, there's a tag rag bloke at the portal, still young and looking rather harmless, but he told us that he had a personal message for the King from Robin of Locksley."

"This is odd indeed," the man, sitting at the table, replied and rose. "Someone wanted to get near the King and thought himself very clever. Let him in and then we'll see, whether he still has a message for the King or not." The guard bowed and left.

This had been much easier than she had thought. It had not been long and the soldier had come back, leading her into the courtyard and into austere room near the entry. "Wait here!" he had muttered and had disappeared, closing the door and securing it with a bolt. Marian paced. What should she tell the King? What if Robin hadn't even mentioned her name? It was not farfetched, although….they had been engaged before and…

She was still standing with her back to the door, when it opened and a familiar voice said. "Now, boy, you've got a message from me for the King?"

Marian whirled around. "Robin….you are alive? Robin…" she whispered. Tears welled up in her eyes and she didn't bother to wipe them away. "Robin…."

"Marian…" Robin replied, his eyes widening, but he didn't come closer. His tone remained matter-of-factly, almost hostile, his eyes hard. Legs spread, he was standing there, his arms folded before his chest. "I didn't expect you….Did your….lover sent you?"

Marian froze; for a second, she was unable to move. _What had Robin said? He believed….?_ She choked with rage, a rage she had never known before; her hand moved on its own accord and came down hard on his cheek. Before he had even time to react, she drove her fist in his belly and kneed him in his groin, so that he went down, howling with pain. "Aaaargh!"

"You!...You!" Marian shouted. She staggered back, covering her face with her fingers and began to sob, shaken by a crying fit.

Martin rushed in, startled by the noise and gazed at the Earl of Huntington, who was still lying on the floor, doubled up with pain and gasping for breath, and the boy he had lead into the room, was standing in a corner, weeping like a girl… Dn, he _was_ a girl! Martin bit his lips; if he laughed out loud, he would rue it afterwards. "My lord, shall I….uhm…?" He didn't know what to say.

Robin didn't look up, but pushed Martin's hand away testily. Then he tried to struggle to his feet, but gave up rather quickly. St, this hurt! Eventually, he managed to sit up and when he looked at Marian, he saw her still standing there, her eyes on him, but unseeing. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her gaze was blank.

He was still hurting like hell, but he clutched Martin's arms and got to his feet, groaning. Then he beckoned the soldier to leave and staggered towards Marian. "Marian…"

"Don't touch me!" Marian cried. „I thought that you knew me, that you trusted me and you…."

Robin stared at her. He realised how wrong he had been with his assumptions. This was not woman who had lived a luxurious life. She had not gone with Gisborne on her own free will; he had kidnapped her and somehow she had managed to escape. "Marian, I thought….that you and Gisborne….I know I was wrong….Do you know where he is?"

"Is this everything you are interested in?" Marian asked in a flat voice. "Guy of Gisborne?" You don't ask what has happened, how I am, you…." Hastily she wiped her tears away from her dirty face.

"No, that's not it, Marian." Robin stepped near and took her in his arms. Without resistance, she let herself being pressed to his chest. Her knees began to buckle, exhaustion overwhelming her. "Come on, Marian, I'm taking care of you. You'll take a bath and I'll get you something to eat. And when you've rested, you can tell us what happened.

He opened a door and steered Marian out. A maiden led her to a comfortable chamber and a servant proceeded to light a fire. Weary, Marian collapsed on the bed. She didn't care how dirty she was and how she smelt. _I'll close my eyes just a few seconds, just a few seconds…._

The door opened and a bathtub was carried in. A maid in a plain brown garment and a crisp white apron put steaming porridge, bread, bacon, cheese, apples, strawberries, grapes and eggs on the table, along with a far of fresh juice. She curtsied. "My lady, I'm Jane and I've brought some new garments for you. They won't fit, but I've been given orders to have new dresses made for you. …The water will be warm soon." She curtsied again and left the room. On a chest she had laid a woollen towel, a marvellous blue dress and a linen nightgown. Marian's fingers stroked the fabric. It had been an eternity since she had worn something like this, since she had even ate her fill. She looked at her hands, the cracks and the bruises, her dirty fingernails. She looked at the delicious food and grabbed a few pieces of cheese, mhmhm…she was hungry, but she would wait until she had taken a bath.

Some time later two women carried buckets with hot water into the room and Marian stretched out in the warm tub. The water scented of roses and she inhaled the delicate odour and then closed her eyes, weighed down with weariness. Jane washed her hair with soap and rinsed it several times until it shone. When she stepped out of the tub, Jane wrapped her in the large towel and towelled her down. Marian was just standing there, lifting her arms mechanically when Jane slipped the nightgown over her head.

"I only want to rest for a few minutes," Marian murmured, uncovering the coverlet. She cuddled in the soft cushions and a smile spread on her face.

"My lady, don't you want to eat anything?" Jane asked. "And you should dry your hair in front of the fire."

"I will eat….later; I only want to rest for a few minutes….later…." She closed her eyes and was fast asleep moments later.

She didn't wake when Robin entered her chambers much later, looking down on the sleeping woman. She still had dark circles under her eyes and he saw that her hands were raw from hard work, but now she reminded him of the woman he had seen months ago in Nottingham.

Then he left the room silently. Things would be have to talked over with the King and perhaps Marian would be able to give them hints about Gisborne's whereabouts.

Sunbeams tickled her nose. She had overslept….she had to….Marian started and blinked. This was not….she was in London…with Robin….he was alive. Slowly, she sank back into the pillows and closed her eyes. Yesterday's pictures came back. Robin, how coldly he had looked at her, Robin, how she had hit him and how he had taken her into his arms…._Do you know where he is?_ Why didn't she remember anything but this one sentence? Robin hadn't even told her that he loved her. Don't be unjust, Marian, he is jealous; that means he loves you.

How long had she slept? It had been afternoon when she had entered the Tower and now it was early in the morning. Marian opened her eyes again and looked around. On the table she saw yesterday's food and realised how hungry she was. Her stomach growled and she grinned. She stretched, pushed the blanket aside and got up.

Never in her life food had looked so good and tasted so wonderful. Although it had been on the table overnight, Marian didn't remember anything that food. The porridge was cold and stale, but it tasted delicious and she savoured every morsel of the grapes. Marian didn't even notice how the door opened and someone entered until she heard a slight cough and a female voice. "My lady?" It was Jane, the maid, who had served her the day before. "My lady, I'll gladly fetch you fresh food. And you will want to refresh yourself. The Earl of Huntington is with his Majesty and has ordered me to take you there once you are ready. – Wait a moment, my lady, I'll fetch warm water and porridge."

Of course, Jane had been curious why a lady had come here, clad like a beggar boy. Marian doubted that Robin had given any explanations to the servants, but she could already hear the gossip in her mind.

A shadow had fallen on her face and on her mind. The sky seemed to be less blue and the berries didn't smell any more. He didn't even bother to come himself. Doesn't he trust me or am I so unimportant for him now?

Years ago, when Robin had gone to the Holy Land with the King, he had broken off their engagement. She had accused him of only seeing her as an accessory and he had glanced at her without understanding. Of course he loved her, had he told her, but she had to comprehend that he had to follow King Richard. Eventually, she had given up explaining; he had not understood what she had meant.

After his return, he had assured her everything would be different and she had believed him. When Guy had hurt her with the poisoned dagger and she had nearly died….He had had tears in his eyes and had shown her so often afterwards that he loved her. And now? What was she to him now?

A knock on the door and Jane and another maid came back, bringing warm water and fresh food. The soap was wonderful and reminded her of happier times and it was as if Marian had not only donned a new gown but also her old identity. The dress was a little loose, but this problem could be solved easily.

When Jane came to fetch her, she smiled, surprised and nearly embarrassed. She hadn't expected the young lady to change that much.

"Bring a sash for me and do my hair," Marian said friendly, but her voice showed that she was used to giving orders.

Jane hastened to obey and brought a several combs, hairpins and a knit sash. "You are looking beautiful, my lady," she said when she had pinned Marian's hair up. Marian knew that she was not beautiful after these months, but the compliment did her good. "Thank you, Jane," she said and smiled.

"Please follow me, my lady," Jane said. Marian had never been in the palace before and yesterday she had been too excited to look around. She knew that her chambers were in an annex of the main building, but when she stepped out, the beauty of the White Tower took her breath away. She had heard that the stones had been brought from France. Marian didn't have much time to enjoy the view; Jane was walking ahead at a brisk pace. The entrance to the White Tower was guarded by two soldiers. Obviously they knew that the King was expecting her, opening the door at once. Surreptitiously, Marian glanced around; royal palaces not only fulfilled the purpose of providing the King and his household with every comfort, but they were also build to impress and to intimidate….and she felt intimidated, a young woman from the country, who had never been in a big city like London, least a palace like this. They walked on through endless corridors, until Jane stopped at a heavy ornamented door, another soldier guarding it. She curtsied… "My lady…" ….and left, while the guard opened the door and Marian entered.

Her steps reverberated on the tile floor and she approached the two men, who were sitting at the other side of the room. Robin got to his feet and met her halfway, whereas the King remained in this chair. Robin smiled at her encouragingly and Marian took his arm, stepping forward and bowing to the King,

"So this is your little girl-friend?" she heard the King's baritone voice. Little girl-friend? What had Robin told the King?

„Come near, my lady," King Richard added and Marian straightened. The King was sitting in a carved chair, his legs stretched before him languidly. Even sitting, he was an imposing figure. He had to be even bigger than Guy, Marian thought. Guy? Where had this thought come from? Richard had auburn hair, green sparkling eyes, a straight nose and a wide mouth with full lips; he was a good looking man, although he began getting fat at his waist. He was wearing an azure garment with gold work. One arm was stretched out on the arm rest and four golden rings glittered on his fingers. _He has chubby fingers…_, she thought,…._little chubby fingers_.

"My fiancée, Lady Marian, your Majesty," Robin said and was still smiling, while Marian hid her tetchiness only barely. Little girlfriend! He had not looked his best yesterday, lying on the floor, grunting, struck down by his little girlfriend!

"Sit down, Lady Marian," the King said and pointed at a chair. Marian sat down, grateful; she was dizzy, as if the last months' exertions were. "I am delighted to get to know you, Lady Marian. Robin has told me much about you, about the circumstances of your disappearance and the risks you took to serve England. I am satisfied to have faithful subjects like you and you may choose a worthy reward. But we'll talk about this later on." The King smiled at her and then looked at Robin, indicating that he should continue, but Marian didn't like the smile. It seemed somehow….false. She couldn't put her finger on it, but….

"Marian," Robin interrupted her thoughts. "I wished we had more time, but it's crucial for England's future that his Majesty's enemies are captured as quickly as possible. Gisborne kidnapped you, didn't he? How did you escape and do you know where he might be now?

_Has he always spoken so pompously? He sounds like a flunkey_. Marian shook her head. "I'm sorry, your Majesty, that I'm not able to help. It's true that Gisborne took me from the stables and I was sure that he would kill me. We rode on for hours and the stopped at a dilapidated hut. In the morning he opened my chains and left me there. He must have known that I would only hinder his escape. I thought Robin was dead. Vaysey had told me that he had trapped him in a barn, this time with no possibility to get away. I didn't know where to go and hid as a servant at a farm….as you can see." With these words she showed her hands to the King, the raw flesh and the bruises still visible.

The King tapped his lips with a finger. One would imagine that Gisborne had other means to ….bet rid of his burden, if he knew that you spied on him," King Richard said musingly.

Robin grinned. "Your majesty, Gisborne has always had a soft spot for Marian…."

A soft spot? Marian tried to bite on the bit – and she didn't like the way the King was look at her now.

"Robin, we have to be grateful for this….soft spot. Otherwise your fiancée wouldn't be alive any longer – although you are quite adept at defending yourself as I am told. You were this…Night watchman. How will you like to take your place among the ladies of my court now?

His tone was condescending and Marian understood. In the King's eyes women had their place and obviously he didn't like confident women. Then she looked at Robin, suddenly confused. Why should she stay at the court? Wouldn't Robin return to Nottingham with her?

Robin harrumphed. "Marian, I…you'll certainly understand…We can postpone the wedding. It's too important to keep track of Vaysey and the Black Knights….You will like it at the court and afterwards…"

Again he is putting me off and again he is positive that his smile and his charm are enough to placate me. "I understand, Robin….your Majesty….Am I allowed to withdraw. I'm still exhausted. She managed a radiant smile towards the King.

„Of course, my dear and I will send Robin to you later on," Richard replied and Marian bowed and left. Closing the door, the heard the King laugh. "Maybe you've found your match, Robin. Robin. This kitten will not easily be tamed."

Slowly Marian went back to her chambers, not noticing the beauty of the White Tower this time. What had happened? Despite the friendly welcome she had felt like being questioned. The King's mistrust and disapproval had been palpable and Robin hadn't lifted a finger to stand by her. His eyes had glittered when she had entered the room in the precious dress and the artfully pinned up hair, but she had not seen any sign of love in his face.

Should she feel guilty that Guy had not killed her but had released her? Her confusion gave way to anger, anger at the King and anger at Robin.

.


	10. Chapter 10

This is only a short interlude, written by my friend and translated by me. Real life forced her to drop out and so the rest of the story will be written by me.

I'm also very busy at the moment, writing the story on our German board and later translating it in English. So, if anyone was interested in translating my story from German to English, I would be delighted. At least, you would have the advantage of knowing everything a little earlier. ggg

Illusions 10

Vaysey looked down at the crowd beneath. How he had missed this! All these years in Nottingham, the populace hailing him! He grinned – _having_ to hail him. There wasn't somebody he had trusted, not even those who had proven to serve him faithfully so far. Gisborne was living proof of that. "Or maybe dead by now," he snickered. And Alan had run out on him like all the others. But he had already known when he hade taken him into service; Alan was a man who trimmed his sails to every wind. Apropos wind; the wind was fair today. You wouldn't hear the prisoners' screams when they were led to the gallows. What a wonderful day! Death would come as a release for many of them and not few had died in the dungeons before the day of the execution had come.

It had been five weeks since Vaysey had come to Quanta-upon-Mo, an island in the South of England with only two buildings – the prison and the house for the headsman and his assistants. There was not even a priest; these men's souls were lost anyway. They were traitors and had forfeited the right to be called human beings. Officially there was no such island as Quanta-upon-Mo, but there had always been rumours.

Vaysey looked around at the crowd, turned to the hangman and nodded. The noose tightened and the stool under his feet was kicked away. He moaned and grunted, his last thought _How could anyone hire such incompetent staff?_ Then everything went dark around him; the former Sheriff of Nottingham was dead. He'd always been weird and although torture had not broken him, his mind had found a possibility to escape; he had become mad at last. The crowd he had greeted at the day of his execution had been a bunch of rats running around in the courtyard and gnawing at everything that was lying around, kitchen scraps and body parts.

Vaysey's corpse was cast on the pile of carcasses. "Twenty-five…not bad for only a morning's work," the hangman mumbled. "Next one!"

Alan had been captured on his way to Nottingham by the King's soldiers and he had been lucky so far that it were soldiers and no bounty hunters. Dead or alive the King had said and so it was no surprise that even the peasants preferred hunting down the traitors to tilling their fields.

Alan knew that it was too late for him; this time he would not be able to get free and sometimes all he wished for was death. Torture was normal on Quanta. He listened to the screams of his fellow inmates and he knew that only time had saved him so far. Too many prisoners and only a few henchmen. But maybe…there was one thing….perhaps it could save him, if he only could talk to the right persons, if he could talk to the King. He knew something that might save him.


	11. Chapter 11

Illusions 11

_Meanwhile…._

Marian closed the door and looked around in the chamber she had left only shortly before. Bright sunlight was streaming through the windows and warmed the room, but she felt chilled to the bone.

How often had she dreamt…_she and Robin in the palace, the man, looking at her with love in his eyes, the wedding officiated in the King's presence, the return to Nottingham, a little girl…._and how different was reality! Robin had received her with mistrust and hostility and he had left her soon enough to rush to the King. Casually, he had told her that the wedding had to be postponed and had not said anything when King Richard had treated her disparagingly. He'd even laughed at the King's words. She remembered his mien very well, the same facial expression he always had when he was up to something, his winking _Can you really be mad at me?_

_Oh, she could!_ Obviously, the fact that he was the King's confidant had gotten to his head and if she was not mistaken, he shared the King's view of women. How had she overlooked this for such a long time? Had he even taken her seriously? _Stay in the camp and cook something_, had he told her in the gang's camp in Sherwood Forest once. If she had, he wouldn't be alive now.

Absentminded, her fingers caressed the luxurious fabric of her dress and then she looked down at herself. The dress was beautiful, but it was everything that had remained of her dream.

The creaking of the door jolted her out of her musings – Robin! He had come more quickly than she had thought. He was standing in the entrance and then closed the door carefully. "Marian…." He smiled as he used to and took her in his arms. Marian huddled against him, her anger forgotten, while he was kissing her temple gently and stroking her hair. She felt relieved; he had realised that he had hurt her and now he would….

"Marian," Robin repeated, while he released her slowly. "

The King is very much taken with you. I admit that we didn't know what could have happened, but it's an honour for you to be accepted among the court ladies. We've talked everything over and I'm positive that you will like it here. By the way …you cleaned up very nicely." He grinned mischievously. „Compared to the dirty street urchin yesterday…"

Marian felt as if she had been slapped. He hadn't realised a thing, hadn't understood anything. She shoved him away. "You have talked everything over. How good for you. I am to stay here and you are doing what you like most – save England. I remember the last time very well, " she hissed furiously.

Robin frowned, his mien showing his lack of understanding. "You're getting it wrong. After all these strenuous months the King wants you to rest and enjoy your life to the full and I promise that, when I come back…."

"And when will you come back, Robin?" Marian replied heatedly. "When England's last enemy has been captured?"

Robin stood only one step away from her, but Marian felt as if she were watching a stranger. Her gaze fell on his brown hair, not falling roguishly over his eyes as it used to but being cut after the latest fashion, and his smiling green eyes. He was wearing a blue tunic with embroidered sleeves that fell down to his calves, and shoes were made of the finest leather. What had happened to Robin Hood, what had happened to robin of Locksley? He used to laugh at fashion and had even pointed at men who wore these kinds of garments. But it was not the outer appearance that was so different. Had he changed or had she ever known him, really known him? Marian felt her anger subsiding, being replaced by an icy calm.

Robin looked at her confidently. "Marian, you know that I love you…."

"You do, Robin?" Marian murmured. _His voice sounds as if he is trying to calm a child._

"….an I knew you would understand. It won't be long and we'll have time for us. Try to imagine a wedding at the court. The King needs me, but soon…."

A loud knock at the door interrupted him. "My lord?" they heard a voice from outside. "His grace, the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Salisbury have arrived. His majesty is expecting you."

Hastily Robin kissed Marian on the cheek. "I'm on my way, we'll talk later." He wrenched the door open and nodded to the soldier, who was waiting. "I'm coming." Almost sighing with relief, he followed the guard. _Marian can be quite difficult at times. Can't she do what I'm telling her like other women?_

Marian stared at the heavy oaken door closing after Robin. Robin hadn't listened to her, but had he ever? He had told her that he loved her, but had it been more than an empty phrase? She would always come in second place or in third or fourth place. Perhaps she was only someone decorating his arm and any other woman would do, too.

Finding a man who loved her had been something she had wanted when she was a little girl and here her dreams came to an end. But then she smiled bitterly. …There _was_ a man, who loved her or had loved her, who had been prepared to die with her, who had lied to the Sheriff, he had sworn loyalty to and who had not even been capable to kill her when he had found out that she had used him. Tears welled up in her eyes…._Guy, you loved me once….I hope you are safe…._

Only an hour later Robin returned. His eyes glittered and his face had an expression she could not read. His smile was so…..full of satisfaction yet still…It wasn't for her and there was something else. There seemed to be bitterness and on the other hand joy. What kind of message had he received?

"Marian," he said slowly. "Buckingham and Salisbury were at Quanta by command of the King….Alan, he's…, they hanged him…" Silence filled the room and then Marian touched Robin's hand, while she was feeling as if someone had laid a stone on her chest. Alan had once been a good friend before he had joined the Sheriff. Greed and jealousy had driven him to the betrayal of his friends. "He begged and cried that he knew something and that he wanted to see the King or me, but I…couldn't go there. But he told us something that saved him from torture… He told us where Gisborne is hiding." For a few seconds, when he was thinking of Alan and the early times of the gang, Marian had seen the old Robin, but then his face hardened and he hissed. "How I have waited for this day! I'll set off today; we'll fetch the traitor and when he's strung up, we'll marry.

He didn't notice Marian's petrified gaze but left shortly afterwards.

Furious, Marian threw the embroidery hoop on the floor and sprang to her feet. This was what she was going to do all day? The King had told her she should exercise herself in _womanly virtues_. Stitching figures on cloth and singing to the lute to please a man wasn't exactly what she had pictured as the meaning of life.

Marian knew very that that the other court ladies were snickering behind her back. Her mother had died early and her father hadn't insisted on her learning how to weave and embroider. He had taught her to fight with a sword, a knife and a bow, even how to break in a horse. The people at Nottingham had respected her as the daughter of the former Sheriff and had liked her; here she was an outsider.

Her hair shone, her fingernails had grown and her hands were soft again, but everybody in the palace knew how she had arrived and everybody had heard the story about her fight against the Sheriff as the Night Watchman. Although they pretended to admire her bravery, the ladies simply thought such behaviour unbecoming for a gentlewoman.

When she had wanted to go for a ride, the stable hands had brought her a palfrey with a side saddle. She had only looked at the men dumbfounded and had returned to her chambers. This was no riding!

By now, Marian had occupied new chambers in the inner part of the palace rather than an annex. She had been living here now for about two weeks and meanwhile she was accustomed to the view from her window, the white, pure stone, the artful arches and ornaments. The beauty of the palace had taken her breath away at first, but now she felt like a prisoner. It was a luxurious prison though; carpets were covering the floors and walls, carved chairs and stools, covered with soft fur were standing in front of the fireplace. Never in her life had she owned gowns like she did now, but she didn't take much pleasure in it.

Her fingers touched the cool walls while she was glancing out of the window. Robin hadn't returned yet. Perhaps Guy had been able to escape in time; perhaps the information had been wrong…

At this instant she saw Robin riding into the yard and, behind him, his arms constrained at his back, Guy. Marian stumbled back, covering her mouth with her hand to suppress a sound of dread.

Robin had found Guy and he would hang. It shouldn't matter to me; he tried to kill the King, he is cruel, he….Marian, I've got another side you don't know. Tears welled up in her eyes and she wiped them away hastily, but it was not use. Time and again she saw the pictures of what was to come.


	12. Chapter 12

Illusions 12

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wiped them away hastily; it was no use and time and again she saw what was to come….

_The King had insisted that she attended the execution and so she was sitting by Robin's side on the __dais. The people clapped and jeered when a guard led Guy from the dungeons towards the gallows; he stumbled, his feet being shackled, and he was staring into space. His left arm was pressed to his side in an odd angle and his shirt hung in shreds. Lank curls hung over a blood crusted forehead and his lips were split._

_Bad eggs and stones were cast, but Guy didn't even try to avoid them. He only winced when a stone hit him at his temple and blood trickled from the little wound. Brutally he was gragged forward. Louder and louder the people's shout resounded in her ears and then Guy was pushed to a little platform._

_Suddenly she felt his gaze. It was as if he longed to see her in the last few moments of is life. She saw longing and regret. Motionless, he was standing on the scaffold while the crowd's murmur subsided. The hangman put the noose around his neck and fastened it. She was staring at Guy, heard her own heartbeat, heard how the verdict was read and the drums roared. Then two men pulled Guy up slowly. She heard his death-rattle, saw how he twitched and struggled in agony._

Then she fainted.

The darkness lifted, Marian blinked, looking up in Robin's concerned face. "What…?" She groaned and looked around, confused. She was lying on her bed, covered with a soft blanket. Her head hurt. Then she remembered – _Guy_….Marian stared at Robin and sat up carefully.

"Are you better?...Jane found you lying on the floor. You were unconscious and hurt your head."

Carefully Marian touched the back of her head, feeling a bump, and grimaced. How long had she lain there? She saw the red and yellow ball of the sun sinking on the horizon; it had been a while. "I think it's better now…perhaps…." She swallowed."…I'm not used to be indoors for such a long time."

Robin didn't seem to mind the fragile excuse; he nodded absentmindedly and took her hand, kissing it gently. "I'm glad that you are well again. The King is planning a feast in a few days in honour of his mother; Queen Eleanor will arrive tomorrow. If you look over there you will find something that will lighten your mood definitely. King Richard had a dress made for you as a special honour."

Carefully Marian turned her head, anger rising again. The yellow garment on the chest was precious and embroidered more artfully than she had ever seen a dress, but was this everything Robin was interested in? Why had the King made such a dress for her in the first place and why did Robin sound like King Richard's parrot again?

"But that's not the good news I wanted to give you. Marian, we've captured Gisborne and this time he will not be able to escape. He used a false name, pretending to be a relative of a knight in Brycgstow. He will hang for his treason and everything he did to us. And then…." He didn't continue, but Marian knew what he meant… _then_ they would marry. Robin kissed her hand again and rose. „Rest and tomorrow we'll talk." Only a moment later he had left the room.

Marian laughed aloud and Jane, who had been standing near the bed without saying anything, looked at her, puzzled. Again, Robin had left her alone, probably to join the King. But then her smile faded. Guy….he would hang and she couldn't do anything.

"My lady, you should rest, as the Earl told you," Jane said alarmed when she saw Marian's pale face. "Please lie down." She put another soft pillow under Marian's head and covered her again with the blanket. Glad to be alone, Marian didn't contradict and only a short time later the door closed behind Jane.

For a while Marian lay on her bed without moving. What was the matter with her? Robin had told her that he would marry her soon and she could only think of Guy. Robin had kissed her hands and she had felt…nothing. Was it only exhaustion and her discontent in the palace? Tears welled up again and ran down her cheeks. Usually, she barely cried and now she seemed not to be able to stop.

When Guy had released her in the hut, she had been positive not to see him again. Grief about Robin's alleged death had overshadowed everything else for a while. She had blocked out thoughts about Guy and during the time she had hidden as a servant, she had been mostly too exhausted and tired to think. But eventually his face had appeared in her dreams, the pain in his gaze but also his contempt. Still, he had let her live and she had known that he loved her.

_I don't want him to die. _Marian sat up_. I don't want him to die. __He has tried to murder the King; he has betrayed England, he killed people…. I don't want him to die._

But what could she do? And suddenly she knew; there was a possibility, but it might cost her everthing. Although…if she was honest…was it that much? Slowly she got up and walked over to the chest where the pale yellow dress was lying. I a few days the King would make a feast for Queen Eleanor and then she would ask for the reward the King had promised her. She already saw Robin's furious and bewildered face and probably he would break off the engagement, but there was no other way to save Guy's life…..And she didn't even know whether she cared about marriage to Robin any longer.

Robin examined the new stallion the King had given to him. It was a wonderful animal, a three year old sorrel. A servant approached him. "My lord, Sir Osgood of Gringstow and his wife want to talk to you."

Robin turned around, surprised. He had not expected to meet the people again, where Gisborne had hidden. He had realised at once that they were not in cahoots with the traitor but had been deceived. Probably they wanted to see Gisborne hand and he could very well understand that. He nodded. "Accompany them to my quarters and serve them something to eat and wine. It will be only a few minutes and I'll be with them."

Shortly thereafter, he entered his chambers and welcomed the Gringstows. "If I had known that you wanted to attend the execution, you could have ridden with us. I will tell the servants to prepare a room for you."

"We…have to thank you. There are…still some questions, which have not been answered yet, about this man we mistook for our nephew. Roger is dead as we know now, but we don't know exactly what happened. Roger was our last relative and we wanted to ask this Guy of Gisborne some questions. And please tell us about this man, who will hang.

"This I will do!" Robin said grimly.

The guard closed the heavy door behind them. "Please knock, when you're ready." Robin had ordered him to lead the Gringstows to the dungeons.

"Roger," Anne whispered as she descended the dark staircases. A rat scurried past them when the light of a torch lit the dark room, but Anne didn't even notice it. "Wife, you know as good as I do that this is not Roger," Osgood said softly. "Wait, I'll lead on and you hold fast to me. The stairs are slippery." Carefully they descended. At the other end of the room, chained to the wall, they saw the man they had taken for their nephew and had loved like a son. In the dim light of the torch they saw the chain leading to the jougs. Guy's head leaned at the wall; his eyes were closed and he didn't move. Anne took a hesitant step towards him.

A door opened and then he heard footfall…They were coming to fetch him. An air draught and the shine of a torch – Guy cracked an eyelid, but he was too weak and only groaned slightly; then his eyes closed again. He didn't care any more whether it was now or in a few days….The footfall came near….silence…His eyes opened again, but his vision was blurred and he saw the face of a woman, dark hair… "Marian," he whispered. ""Marian…"

Then he felt something touch his lips…a cup. "Drink," a voice said, a voice he had known in another life only a few days ago. Greedily he swallowed. "More…more please…"

"This is all I have….Guy." Anne wiped Guy's brow and felt his grateful gaze. Osgood was standing behind his wife, undecided what to do. He harrumphed. "We'd like a few answers. It was not much what the Earl of Huntington told us when he arrested you. You told us that you didn't kill Roger and we want to know what happened and if it's true that you tried to kill the King."

Guy's faze was weary, but he looked into Osgood's face. "I have tried to kill King Richard," he said hoarsely. "And I would do it again, not for the Sheriff of Nottingham, not for the Black Knights, but for me….Your nephew, he was a good man. I met him in Bordeaux…He was ill and he dies in my arms….I….I'm sorry that I decei…." Guy became silent; the words had exhausted him. Osgood flinched when Guy confirmed his assassination and looked down at him gloomily while he caressed Anne's shoulder. "I don't understand. I thought I knew you. All these things we heard about you, are they true?"

"Yes, it's true, Osgood….I would have liked to be another man and I….It was good to know you….you were the best that happened to me….If you try to remember this time with you in Brycgstow, I'm glad."

"And you were good for us," Anne said, who had remained silent so far, with a firm voice. "You are not a bad person….and I don't understand, but you are like a son to me." Tears streamed down her face when she touched Guy's face.

Guy felt as if someone had placed a rock on his chest, when he saw the weeping woman and noticed the mix of emotions in Osgood's face, but at the same time he felt a joy he didn't understand himself. These were people, who loved him and who would miss him.

"We have to go, Anne," Osgood murmured and then he felt how the old knight squeezed his hand. "Adieu, son."

Anne got up carefully; she was swaying and was going to say something, but Osgood shook his head. Guy looked after them when the ascended the stairs; he heard the voices at the door and then….silence…..


	13. Chapter 13

Illusions 13

Thank you to everyone for their reviews. I'm really sorry that you have to wait a little longer to see what happens to Guy. I'll be on holiday in July, but you'll get a new chapter in August.

Illusions 13

The castle was buzzing with activity. Venison, boar, partridge, pork and beef were brought into the kitchen and cut up. Cooks prepared pastries and tender roast in delicious sauces. The flavour of bread and cake meandered though the kitchen and the bakehouse. Candles were made and the hall was decorated with cloths and banners. Stable hands combed down the horses and cleaned the stables; soldiers polished their weapons.

She should be exhilarated. Nottingham Castle was a gloomy fortress and could not be compared with the Tower of London. She, a young noblewoman from the country, would attend the King's feast. But Marian could not relish in all this beauty and cheerfulness; she knew what was awaiting her….and if the King refused to fulfil her plea….Only in the garden Marian could breathe freely and she felt as if the burden was lifted a little when she lingered amongst the flowers and bushes.

_Who were these people?_ Marian was positive that she had never seen them before. The huge older man with his spiky hair standing in all directions was obviously a knight, although his shabby garment showed that he was not blessed with worldly goods. He had his arms around a woman, whose face Marian could not see, but she seemed to cry.

_Should she, could she help?_ She approached them slowly and caught the man's helpless glance. "May I help you?" she asked softly. "My chambers are nearby…and if you want to rest…." Grateful, the man gazed at Marian, nodded and followed her, whereas his wife didn't say a word.

Marian directed them towards the hallways towards her chambers and Osgood led his wife to a chair. Up to now, they had not said anything, but Marian felt that this was not a qualm. The old knight seemed to be somehow….shaken and Marian saw how lovingly he treated his wife. "Thank you," he said and bowed his head. "My name is Osgood of Gringstow and this is my wife Anne. We….maybe you've seen a …captive brought here some days ago." He halted and it was a while until he continued. "The man has lived with us for months. We thought he was our nephew; there was an uncanny resemblance…but in truth….The Earl of Huntington has allowed us to see him in the dungeons and…."

Marian was dumbstruck. _These_ were the people Robin had told her about. „You are here to see the hanging," she said in a flat voice. „It's Guy of Gisborne you are talking about and …he is…responsible for your nephew's death…

Anne blinked, bewildered. "No, he is not, but…You know him? Who are you?"

„My name is Marian of Knighton and I….know him well." Marian had expected torrents of hatred about the man who had posed as their nephew. She was not prepared for the glance the couple cast at her – surprise, thoughtfulness, distrust and…_hope_? Finally Osgood broke the silence. "Guy mentioned the name Marian."

Marian paled. _Guy had spoken about her? What had he said? That he had loved her once?_ She looked at them pleadingly. "Would you tell me what happened?"

Quizzically Osgood gazed at her. What should he tell this woman? Other than the Earl of Huntington she didn't seem to hate Guy and she had looked distraught when she had talked about him.

The arrival of Robin of Locksley and Guy's arrest had hurt Anne and Osgood deeply. At first Osgood had thought that Guy had said and done had been deception, but then he had begun to think about everything, about the way Guy had behaved towards them. The visit in the dungeons had affirmed his doubts. Guy hadn't even tried to make excuses, he hadn't even tried to explain his hatred of King Richard. The assassination had been caused by hatred and not by ambition of greed; this Osgood had been sure of.

Inquiringly, he glanced at Marian and decided to be more open than he had intended to be. "We don't want to see the hanging; we wanted to see Guy for a last time. The time he was with us….we liked…..he was a good boy." Osgood seemed embarrassed, but Anne squeezed his hand and nodded.

Marian blinked and then her lips curled slightly. Osgood frowned and then scowled at her; had he been wrong about her? Hastily Marian said, "I didn't expect anybody to call Guy a good boy….but he is …very important to me and I….I will try to rescue him."

Anne stared at Marian and shook her head, woeful. "This is not possible," she said. "He is a…traitor and there is no possibility to save his life. Even if we beg the King for mercy…."

Marian drew a deep breath. "I….I don't know, but I'll try… It is odd; all these years I have fought against the Sheriff of Nottingham and against Guy…the King promised me a reward. I intend to go to him at the evening of the feast and ask for this reward…..What did Guy….what did he say about me? I know he hates me."

Surprised the older woman looked at Marian. There was more than she had thought at first. She had regained her composure and part of her hope; perhaps Guy would live. "Does he have reason to hate you?" she asked and Marian nodded, tears welling up in her eyes again. "I…" She bit her lips. "He _has_ reason to hate me. I spied on him and I used his …affection form e." she didn't dare to say _love_. "I'm so sorry!" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. Now I'm even crying in front of these strangers. Embarrassed, she wiped her tears away and tried to smile.

"Earlier, the Earl of Huntington told us about Guy," Osgood said. "Now I would like to hear from you," Osgood said.

Marian knew she looked good and that she would make an impression on the King in this dress. It was a delicate cloth, as she had never seen one before; her dark hair shone and was adorned with a band of little beads. Jane had been so proud about the King's gift to her mistress that she had told everybody. Marian had known at once how jealous most of the conceited court ladies would be and had felt satisfaction; she had known, however, that the gift was inappropriate.

What was the King aiming to achieve with this dress? Still, she was not able to reckon up King Richard's character. He had always been kind of a guiding light for her, the way everybody had talked about him, the things Robin had told her…But if she was honest – she didn't like hi. The way he had treated her had not been a king's natural authority but the condescending behaviour of a man who thought that women were second-class human beings. Of course she had always known that most man considered women inferior, but the way she had been raised by her father had been exceptional and she had grown up on island of bliss. And how he had looked at her – she hadn't liked it. _I'll be on my guard_, she murmured.

But perhaps she could take advantage of this situation, perhaps…She felt a lump in her throat. In a few minutes Robin would come and walk her to the hall where the feast would take place. She already knew that everything would change between them, even if the King should deny her request.

Glancing at Marian, Robin raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, his eyes radiant. She had always been beautiful, but now he knew that he would be met with envy by every man at court. Fleetingly he thought of his former friends from Sherwood Forest; they had returned to their life and he had returned to his. He took Marian's hand and felt her trembling slightly. "Believe me, the evening will be a success for you," he said reassuringly and caressed her hand.


	14. Chapter 14

Illusions 14

I have tried to find dances from the time of RH, but didn't find much. What I found, however, were dances from the Renaissance. Since we are not offended by Marian in an outfit from H&M, you are hopefully not affronted by the idea of a dance that does not exactly fit in the right period.

If you like to look at this link on youtube…

/watch?vSNOa0dxb2gU

Every time I am writing about this unappealing king, I nearly cringe at the thought that his name is Richard. Couldn't he have another name?

There might be questions about Richard's mother being Queen Eleanor. But in Wikipedia I found this: _She ruled England in Richard's name, signing herself as 'Eleanor, by the grace of God, Queen of England'_

Illusions 14

Torches in the festively decorated hall bathed the hall in a warm light. Musicians already entertained the guests with flutes and lutes. Banners and luxurious hangings covered the walls and a wonderful tapestry with scenes from the Holy Land was resplendent directly above the King's seat: King Richard in Acre. Silver cups, tankards and plates had been placed on the long tables, flower arrangements and candles were standing in between.

Servants had waited in the atrium and had doused their hand with scented water and handed them soft towels. More and more expensively dressed noblemen streamed into the hall, the floor of which was covered with herbs and flowers, but nobody sat down but waited for the arrival of King Richard and Queen Eleanor. Marian looked around; meanwhile she knew some of the nobles at court, although she had not exchanged but a few words with them.

She felt the admiring glances of the knights and many glacial stares and barely concealed jealousy of the court ladies. She knew it was not only jealousy because of the King's grace but also because of the man at her side. Effortlessly and elegantly he moved through the crowd as if he had been raised at the royal court and not on a plain estate near Nottingham.

Clarions on the gallery announced the arrival of the King and his mother, and Marian's heart was in her throat. The murmuring died down when Queen Eleanor entered the hall, at her son's elbow. They remained motionless for moment, and then strode through the crowd of guests to their seats, while everyone present sank to a low bow. With a gesture, King permitted them to rise and, watching the king, Marian was impressed despite herself. He _was _an imposing figure in his white garment with the gold stitching on its hem and sleeves; a golden belt was tied around his hips and his smile was self-confident.

One could still see that Eleanor of Aquitaine must have been a very beautiful woman once. She was wearing a precious blue garment and was radiating such strength and authority one would not have thought of such a small person. But then many had underestimated her before and regretted it later. _This is the woman who has made England poor so that her son could return_, Marian thought heretically.

Eleanor knew that many of her subjects resented her for that. She had always been a suspicious woman and fought opponents all her life, but now she seemed to see enemies everywhere. For a brief moment, she met Marian's eye and frowned as if she had sensed the young woman's disapproval. Quickly Marian averted her eyes; it would not be wise to arouse the King's anger now. Out of the corners of her eyes she saw Queen Eleanor whispering into her son's ear. Richard's eyes were on her now and she saw his smile change. He seemed amused and answered his mother whose face brightened up, then nodded and cast a now friendly, albeit scrutinising look at Marian.

Marian swallowed, curved her lips into a brief smile and then looked back at Robin, who had not noticed the short intermezzo. _I need the King if I want to save Guy, but what am I getting into here? _The music was swelling once more and the noblemen of the Court were now taking their seats and the food was being carried in, roast pigeons and pig liver, throstles, partridges with candied olives, eggs and bread, calf heads, hardboiled capons, calf breasts and loins, goatlings, sausages, game and lamb in spicy sauces, vegetables, pastries, gingerbread, waffles, wine, mead and cider. Never before had Marian seen anything like it. Nothing at the Court betrayed the fact that England was a poor country now.

The King lifted his goblet. "Let us raise our cups to the woman who was not afraid of any sacrifice whatsoever to secure England's future!"

"Long live Queen Eleanor! Long live King Richard! God protect England!" Salisbury shouted while everyone present lifted their cups. Noting all the enthusiastic faces around her, Marian knew she had to play along. Inside she felt miserable. She saw the families of Nottingham who did not know most of the time what to put on the table for their children and who whose meagre earnings were being trained by ever increasing taxes. _It is not right what happens here and I don't belong here… And __this__ is the King for whom I sounded out Guy! _Nevertheless she lifted her cup along with the others and beamed enthusiastically for this was her only chance to save Guy's life. Next to her, Robin had joined to overall cheering and his eyes were gleaming.

But then Marian felt the King's eye on her, who was staring at her bluntly and she know in this instant that she had not been wrong – the King desired her. _This man is not your friend, Robin, but you will never notice._ She shuddered inwardly and Guy's words rang in her ears. How far would she go to save Guy's life? She closed her eyes briefly and then she looked into the King's beautiful deceiving eyes. She would pay a price and could only hope it would not be too high.

_Lo and behold! I was right about the little wildcat after all. She is not the innocent girl from the country Robin described to me. The dress was a test and she knew it immediately. We'll see if she keeps in bed what she promises. If so, it will definitely __be a welcome change. _

None of the women he had wanted had ever denied anything to them and all these court ladies with their smooth bland faces were soon boring him. Maybe Marian of Knighton would prove to be a challenge. In any case, her look had been anything but humble.

King Eleanor knew her son like nobody else knew him. "Have you not just told me that she is Robin of Locksley's fiancée?" she whispered.

Richard grinned. "So? I am the King, am I not?"

Then he clapped his hands, thus announcing the beginning of the feast. He reached for a leg of venison and took a hearty bite. Given what lay in store for him, it tasted twice as good.

Marian did not taste what had been heaped onto her plate; it might have been grass for all she cared. Absent-minded she shoved the food around on her plate and tore the bread into little bits. She had of course observed the brief scene between the King and his mother and could very well guess what it had been about when she noticed Queen Eleanor's smirk. For all her strictness she had always had a blind spot where her son was concerned. She would find nothing wrong with him seducing a court lady who was the fiancée of one of his most loyal liegemen. On the other hand she resented drunkenness and Marian knew that the feast tonight would be different from most others. Nobody would drink themselves under the table tonight.

During the feast, acrobats were entertaining the guests, parrots were doing tricks, fire-eaters and sword-swallowers were demonstrating their skills. Laughter rang through the hall when a trained monkey sole food from some of the guests and then jumped up on the gallery. Marian pretended to be fascinated by everything and was glad Robin did not expect her to talk to him much. Thus she remained silent most of the time and tried to calm herself. _I must not drink too much wine, I might say something stupid and that could be the end of me._ She felt dizzy and started choking when she thought of the encounter with King Richard, which would soon come.

After some time conversation and laughter gave way to an overall pleasant satiety and at last the King gave the order to take away the dishes. The guests rose and the servants carried the tables out. During the feast the gleemen had entertained the guests but now they were preparing for the dance music. Marian was glad that she had learned how to dance for now the moment would come that she had been dreading but that she could not put off any further. The King loved music and was even known for his poetic talent – something one could not have attributed to a King who had been waging wars for as long as she could think.

Gentle sounds were drifting through the room – a pavane – and it did not take long for the King to look into her eyes.

„I was right; the dress really brings out your beauty. I am glad that you accepted my gift." he said softly.

Marian tried a winning smile. „I thank you, your Majesty, although you have put a heavy burden upon me, for as I know, I am the envy of a lot of the court ladies."

King Richard's eyes were flashing. "I will take that as a good sign…"

"Your Majesty, forgive me if I…" She swallowed. "… that I am so bold as to… I have a request… Can you speak to you later – alone?"

His wolf-like smile told Marian how the King interpreted her request and that he intended much more than speak with her. "How could I ever refuse?"

"I thank you, your Majesty. It is… something that concerns Robin of Locksley as well. I will tell him that I will be speaking with you later."

Richard frowned and his eyes narrowed. Obviously the girl did not have the same kind of amusement in mind _he_ had. What _did _she want? Or did she just want to make sure that everything would be totally innocent in case anyone should see her? He would find out… "It will be best if you notify Robin at once. I will be sending a reliable servant to you after the feast. Be ready." he told her noticeably cooler than in the beginning and Marian knew she had to be careful now.

Soon after, the music broke off for a short pause, and Marian noted with relief that people had been observing here but that their conversation had been quiet enough for the guests not to overhear anything. Nobody was taking notice of her. She was making her way back to Robin, when she saw him in deep conversation with a young woman. When Marian came closer, she saw that the young woman was still a girl rather than a woman. She was small and of slight stature, with blond, curly hair, gentle and fine features and was looking up at Robin with fascinated blue eyes; as usual, Robin was doing all the talking.

"Robin?"

Robin turned to Marian and blinked.

_He must have missed me as little as I him. Come to think of it, this girl is perfect for him; she adores him and doesn't contradict him. _

"Marian! I was just about to… May I introduce Mathilda of Dwinington? She arrived with Queen Eleanor's attendance."

Marian smiled at the girl amiably. She was still a little surprised herself that she did not feel the slightest bit of envy and that what she had mistaken for love had vanished so quickly and painlessly. It could not have been love; it had been an illusion. Maybe Robin felt the same way subconsciously, for although he had introduced her, he had not used the word "fiancée". "I am happy to meet you, Milady", she addressed the young woman. "My name is Marian of Knighton." Then she turned to Robin. "I can't tell explain it now but there is something important that I need to ask the King and he has agreed to speak to me later."

"Ah, the reward!" Robin's eyes flashed. „Choose something pretty", he grinned mischievously, and for a moment he looked just as he used to.

The rest of the feast passed by Marian like a dream, and at last silence was all over the castle. At some point there was a soft but audible knock on the door of her quarters. She opened and saw a servant standing in front of her door, who took a bow. "My lady, if you would follow me." I had cooled down; Marian put a shawl around her shoulders and followed the man through the corridors.

The servant closed the door behind Marian, who stepped closer, nervously. Just like at their first encounter the King was casually sitting in his chair, waiting. She took another bow and Richard gave her an amused smile. "So formal, my dear?" Then he got up and stopped in front of Marian, who suddenly realised how great a risk she was taking. The King desired her – what if he took by force what he coveted?

But Richard was only staring at her in interest. He was no fool and had always had a talent for observing people. This was not the look of a woman who wanted to give herself to the King. Her hands were gripping her shawl and he saw one of her feet shake slightly. "Well?" he asked.

"Your Majesty, I don't know…" She took a deep breath. _You are behaving just like one of the spineless court ladies you despise so much. Tell him what you want!_

"Your Majesty, you had promised me a reward, and there is indeed something that is very important to me. I was there when you arrested Guy of Gisborne and Robin told me that he… is supposed to be hanged. I know that he is… a traitor, but I am asking you for his life."

She looked at King Richard expectantly, whose face did not betray anything except for a raised eyebrow. "Continue. I am sure you will want to give me the reason for your request."

"Guy of Gisborne has saved my life several times. I can't just forget that. He spared me although he knew that I had plotted against him. I can't… my conscience…"

"So, it is Gisborne's life that you want for a reward." The King turned around and stared into the starless night. _It is like I thought. Probably she has already rolled in the hay with Gisborne, but heck, I wouldn't want a nun in bed anyway. If I give her Gisborne, she will be grateful to be, very grateful, and Robin will resent __her__ instead of __me__. Without any friends at her side, she will literally fall into my lap._ He smiled to himself. _This is very well worth a little sacrifice. _

Richard turned back to Marian. "Your request is granted."


	15. Chapter 15

Illusions 15

„I'll spare his life, but he will be banished. He will save no more than his skin," King Richard said softly and looked at Marian, his gaze scrutinizing her.

Her heart was still in her mouth and she realised that she had held her breath. Guy would be saved, but she would never see him again. She didn't know what she had expected. After all, Guy had tried to kill the king and this was one of the most horrible crimes anyone could think of, but…."I'm very grateful, your majesty," she said, hardly recognizing her own voice.

Richard smiled. _How grateful?_ his gaze said. The king was prudent enough not to put pressure on her now. She would only hate him and he didn't want a woman, who'd rather put a dagger at his throat than sleep with him. _I can wait and I know she will be mine_. "You may adjourn to your chambers now. You will probably want to tell Robin yourself. I take it that he doesn't know yet?... I will announce it then that Gisborne will be pardoned."

Marian nodded but didn't say anything; she bowed and left the room. She knew how lucky she had been but she also knew that she was in for a rough time with Robin.

King Richard remained, bemused. The evening had not quite turned out as he had expected, but if he played his cards well… His lips curled in a smirk. The image of a cards-game…it _was_ a game and he liked to play. For Gisborne's pardon he would stage a spectacle; this would entertain the courtiers and mollify Robin. And Marian, who had made eyes at him to save her former lover, would be his. Obviously, she had underestimated him.

Guy raised his head; again, he heard footfall and then the latches at the door were pushed back. He stared into space; this time, there wouldn't be a reprieve like some days ago when Anne and Osgood had visited him. Guy was almost too weak to even think of struggle against this fate. The few sips of water that Anne had given him had revived him for only a short time. The guards didn't even bother to bring him fresh water and all he could do was licking the moisture from the walls of the dungeon. His lips were split and his neck and throat were sore and burned where the jougs cut in his flesh.

The door squeaked in its hinges and in the shimmer of a torch Guy saw three men coming down the steps. Three men to fetch him? This was hardly necessary; he was so weak that they could have sent the scullion. Guy closed his eyes again and didn't move until the sound of the boots came near and the men halted in front of him. There were two soldiers and another man in the background. One of the soldiers grasped the chain and pulled Guy roughly to his feet; Guy groaned; he stumbled and then he felt that the jougs were opened.

The third man came out of the shadow – Locksley! His face was contorted with hatred and, stepping near, he punched Guy in the ribcage at full tilt, hurling him to the ground. For a moment, Guy lay on the ground, dazed; then he tried to get up. "Locksley….you…rob yourself of the fun, if you kill me now," he groaned and laughed softly. His ribs, one of them was broken for sure. A hard kick against his head, he fell to the floor again, and then was pulled up brutally.

Blood trickled from a wound at Guy's head and he blinked. _Locksley's dreams had come true; he would see his worst enemy hang._ _Why did he need beating him up now?_ Abruptly, Robin released him and he collapsed. Everything went black and he hit the ground with his head, hard.

Light, blazing light….his head felt as if breaking into a thousand pieces. He raised his arm and touched his temple….a bandage….Slowly he began to feel his body again and moved his head, looking around. He was lying on a bed of straw; the room was primitive and the colour flaked off the walls. Beside him a jug was standing on the floor next to a small loaf of bread. With effort, he sat up and felt a sharp pain in his chest. It didn't matter; he was used to pain….._Water_! Greedily, he gulped the liquid and reached for the bread. It was hard and he poured the rest of the water over it to soften it.

Everything had remained silent and the room was empty save for the straw bed he was sitting on. Where was he and why had he been brought her? Then he began to laugh. He was as dumb as he had told Locksley to be. They would give him something to eat and would tend to his injuries and then execute him. There was no fun in hanging a man, who was half dead.

The door was opened and an elderly plump maid servant came in, carrying a small water basin and a cloth, behind her Robin of Locksley, was standing in the door with his legs apart, and eying Guy with hatred.

"What do you want, Locksley? Making sure that I get enough to eat and _live_ to see the day of the _execution_?" He laughed and then snorted derisively. The maid servant halted, unsure what to do now. "Go!" Robin snubbed. „Come back later on!" The woman hurried to leave the room and Robin slammed the door behind her.

"I didn't want to believe it and she has not admitted it either, but….How have you succeeded in ensnaring her? She has always detested you."

Guy looked at Robin without understanding.

"Don't act the fool! Marian!" Robin shouted.

"Marian?" Guy didn't trust his ears. "You're talking nonsense…She spied on my – for you – and she only ridiculed me," he said in a flat voice, stony-faced. Only for a short moment, the hurt had flickered in his eyes, but it was long enough for Robin to notice. _Gisborne is not a good actor. There was nothing between them. Can it bet hat….?_

„What does it matter anyway?" Guy added. „You've achieved everything you wanted and Marian of Locksley will sit on the gallery with you and applaud my execution."

But instead of the scornful laughter Guy had expected, Robin's eyes only blazed and he looked at Guy grimly, clenching his teeth. Then he left the room without saying another word.

_Early in the morning, Marian had come to him and he had been glad that she had come, had wanted to banter with her and asked what she had chosen as a reward. But her nervousness and the way she had paced had told him at once that something was wrong._

"_Robin, there is something I have to tell you…please, don't interrupt me, even if…..From the time when I was a small child, father always told me that it is important to choose between right or wrong, good or bad, that it does not matter whether I like someone or not….He taught me to be grateful and that it is a sin to be ungrateful…."_

_Robin looked at her, confused. "Marian, what are you up to?"_

_Marian drew a deep breath. "I….perhaps…..Guy of Gisborne saved my life, not only once, but several times. ….I cannot…..I have begged the King to spare his life…"_

_As pale as death she stood in front of Robin and Robin stared at her without understanding.__ 'It couldn't be; he had misheard. Gisborne was their enemy, the worst traitor he could imagine…it couldn't be!'_

_But when he gazed at her, he knew that he had not misheard, that she had indeed asked the King for Gisborne's life. "This is what you chose as your reward – his life?" he heard himself say, his voice more a croak than his normal voice. "And I am to believe that there was nothing between you and Gisborne?" he shouted abruptly. "You've carried on with Gisborne, you…." His voice cracked._

_Marian looked at him as if he had slapped her, but then she straightened and glared at him. "I didn't feel good knowing what I would have to say you. But you are making it easy for me, Robin. No, aside from the kiss at Nottingham Castle, when I wanted to prevent him from detecting you, there was nothing between us. And I don't care whether you believe me or not."_

_With these words she left him standing there and left the room, not even bothering to look back, while he was staring behind her, still stunned. Slowly, he regained his composure; he would talk to King Richard. __This could not be happening!_

_His footfall reverberated on the floor when Robin headed towards the King's chambers. __Angrily, he pushed a servant aside, who was hurrying through the halls and had not jumped aside in time. The guard at the door hastened to announce the Earl of Huntington to the King, when he saw the grim mien of the usually good humoured nobleman and only a few minutes later Robin entered the King's chambers._

_The King was sitting in his usual chair. "Come and sit down, Robin; I have expected you." He pointed at a chair at his side. "I know what you want to ask me, Robin. Well, you were present when I promised Lady Marian a reward, a reward she could choose. It is important that everyone can rely on the King not to break his word, even without a sworn oath." __He smiled. __"She has only asked for his life. I promise you that he will be banished and he won't forget the public humiliation I intend for him." _

_Robin breathed deeply when he left King Richard's chambers. The King was one of the people he could trust, whereas Marian had betrayed him. Gisborne….he would make him talk, although he had to hold back. Robin knew that he was likely to kill Gisborne, if he lost his composure; he had to be careful. The King had given his word and this was the only thing that was important. _


	16. Chapter 16

Illusions 16

Illusions 16

After Robin had left the room, the maid had come back and had cleaned Guy's head wound. She hadn't spoken a word with him, though, and had avoided his gaze. Guy knew she wouldn't talk and the sound of hammers told him anyway - the gallows and the gallery were built.

Two days had passed; his head wound had begun to heal and his rib had obviously only been slightly broken. The meals were better now and he could not bring himself not to eat it. Sometimes he wished he were back in the dungeons where the boundaries between dream and reality had begun to blur. Locksley had not come back and he had remained alone – until now that he heard heavy footfall from the hallway.

"Up, Gisborne!" the guard barked and Guy rose. They didn't bother constraining him, it was only a short walk and Guy knew what awaited him. He stepped out of the building and saw the gallery they had built, which was packed with numerous courtiers, in the midst the accursed King, but…. Where were the gallows? Guy halted and was pushed further by the soldier walking behind him. Beside the gallery, Guy saw some soldiers on horses and also his own horse. Suddenly he felt as if an icy hand had clasped his heart, no gallows but horses, this meant….He gasped. _No! No!_ Then he was hustled forward again and saw Locksely, his face grim, at King Richard's side. A row beneath he noticed Marian; she was pale, but she….smiled! He had not thought that his words would come true this way. Yes, she would applaud his death. He should have killed her when she had been in his grip. From the corner of his eye he saw Anne and Osgood, and then the soldier knocked him to his knees with the blunt end of his lance.

Still dazed, he heard how the sentence to death was read aloud. _The horses…they will draw and quarter me…_.Everybody went silent and the soldier struck him another blow. "Look at his Majesty!" he shouted. Guy raised his head and looked at King Richard who had stood up and addressed his courtiers.

"This man is a coward, a traitor, a worm, who deserves the most painful death. Men like him are responsible for the downfall of kingdoms and it is only due to God's providence that he didn't succeed killing me. When I came back I found England in uproar and rebellion. My beloved brother John was not able to give this nation the strong hand it needed. I was forced to take drastic measures. But perhaps the day has come to show that England's king can be merciful. I will spare this man's life, but I banish him from our country. He had sworn the oath of a knight to fight for order, truth, justice and the church and he has broken these oaths. I disallow him his knighthood and his peerage."

King Richard descended from the gallery and beckoned a soldier who brought Guy's sword. "It has always been the custom to destroy the sword of a knight who has lost his honour. But this sword was not _his_ property, but another victim's of this so called nobleman. Osgood of Gringstow, rise and take the sword for your kinsman, Roger of Hale, who was murdered viciously by this villain."

Petrified, Osgood had listened to the King's words. He himself had told the King that Guy had not killed Roger but that he had died of a family decease. And the King had not said a word about Marian having pleaded for Guy's life. The King he had always admired, had made a spectacle out of this, it was a performance with the King as the central character. Osgood rose and bowed his knee to the King, who handed him the sword with a grand gesture; then he walked back to his seat and sat down beside Anne. He took her hand and looked at her gloomily. Guy's life had been spared and Osgood was glad, even though he had tried to murder the King Osgood had always supported. Osgood and Anne had loved the withdrawn knight like a son and they knew that they had not been mistaken – he had loved them too. But there was something else, too: The doubts about the King's character hurt.

Guy was pulled up by the guard. Confused, he looked around and saw the hostile faces, hostile except Osgood and Anne and…._Marian_?

"We'll leave you to the Welsh to deal with the likes of him," King Richard added after a pause. "He will be brought to the frontier; what happens to him afterwards, is not my responsibility." He had not once even looked at Guy, and now beckoned to the soldier to lead Guy away. One of the noblemen who sat at the edge of the gallery, spat in his face and then everybody turned to the King, applauding and rejoicing the great and merciful ruler. Nobody paid attention to Guy any longer.

The guard pushed him into his room and closed the door. Guy dropped to his straw bed; he was still dazzled. Why had the King spared his life? He leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, he fell asleep…_Marian….Anne….Osgood…._

Robin looked after Guy, satisfied. The King had kept his promise and this had even been better than an execution; the humiliation had been complete. He had watched Guy when he was being brought into the courtyard, had seen how he had gazed around and paled when he had seen the horses. _You thought they were for you, Gisborne, didn't you_? Robin smiled. Yes, was better indeed. If Gisborne had been executed, there would always have been some sentimental people who would have pitied him. Probably Gisborne wouldn't stay alive anyway after having been brought to Wales and even if….he was a nobody, less than an outlaw, no weapons, not friends….

How grateful Marian could be that the King hadn't mentioned her role in this; her reputation would have been ruined beyond redemption. Of course there was still the possibility that the servants would talk, but what the heck had she thought? He would have to talk to her; it was high time she learned how to behave at the King's court and she would have to change if she wanted to become his wife. He knew by now that nothing had happened between her and Gisborne, but could she hold it against him that he had been suspicious? No, .she had much to learn indeed.

A guard sat on the coach box of the heavy wooden coach they would use to transport Guy. Two soldiers would accompany the coach. "S' much fuss abou' this bloke," one of the men grumbled. "Best be cuttin' his throat an' ditchin' 'em somewhere. Te think we're drivin' to the border to get rid of 'em."

The other soldier nodded. "Right, I'd make short work of him, if ye asked me, but the King's pardoned 'im . It's the King's order!" He shrugged.

A guard brought Guy, who climbed into the coach without uttering a word. The soldiers' miens said everything; he was a traitor and less than a human being. The door closed and the coach moved forward.

"Stop!" Guy heard Osgood's voice shouting. "Wait a minute! I'll take a last look at this scum who killed my nephew."

Guy felt as if he had been slapped. _They didn't believe me. I thought…._The door opened and Osgood's grim face appeared. Dead was too good for you," he snapped. „Go to hell!"

Then he added, audible only for Guy's ears. "Take this, son, and read it." He pressed something in Guy's hands and slammed the coach door. The cart began to move again and Guy unfolded the letter, his fingers trembling. A gold coin fell out, but this was not what he was interested in. He recognized Anne's handwriting.

_Dear Guy,_

_It is still unfamiliar for us to call you by this name. You were Roger for us and as such we have come to love you and we believe you that you cared for us, too. This is what we wanted to tell you. There is something else you should know. The King has pardoned you asolely because Marian of Knighton pleaded for your life. She has told us what she has done, but we believe that she had rued it since. Why do you hate our King so much? We'll never know, but we pray that God may forgive you. Your further life will be what you make of it. We will never forget you._

_Osgood and Anne of Gringstow._


	17. Chapter 17

Illusions 17

Osgood stared after the slowly disappearing carriage. It would be the last he would see of Guy in his life. He and Anne would return to an empty house in Gringstow. They had started to rebuild the castle but there was no use in continuing; there were no relatives and after his death, all his possessions would be transferred to some other subject of the King as a fiefdom. Each step was a tired one and he felt every single one of his years.

Too much was troubling him that he had not dared to say out loud so far, not even to Anne. Until now he had admired a King unknown to him, and he would continue to serve him loyally, but something had changed. A King had to take drastic measures, otherwise he was lost. But Osgood had seen it in the King's face how he had enjoyed the banquet , and the act of mercy he had let himself be praised for had not been Richard's idea. He had let the people prepare a feast for him and Queen Eleanor but seemed to have wasted no thought whatsoever on the fact that his return had made England poor.

And there was something else: Lady Marian had been sitting on her chair, pale and unmoving. There had been something in her face; not only relief at the fact that Guy would not lose his life, but also something like… fear…. He had not seen her after that – until now. She was standing by her window and looking down. He did not see more than her shadow but he knew that he and Anne had to speak to here before their return to Gringstow. Maybe she knew something about Guy's past. _What was it, boy, that came over you? _

Guy leaned his head against the wall of the carriage and inhaled deeply. He quickly smoothed the piece of parchment that he had not realised until now he was clutching tightly. _Dear Guy… come to love you… We believe you… Marian of Knighton pleaded for your life… we will never forget you…_

Time and again he read the letter, then folded it up and put it up his sleeve.

The carriage was labouring over bumpy roads. His head had started to hurt again; agitatedly, Guy touched his throbbing temple. The would that had started to heal had opened again and was burning. Exhausted, he leaned again the inside of the carriage. The monotonous rattling sent his eyelids to rest, but not him.

Anne and Osgood had forgiven him but he knew exactly that it would have been better for both of them if they had never seen him. They had seen him as a son for whom they wanted to rebuild Gringstow; now that hope was gone. It had been similar to what had happened to him. Through Marian he had been given a glimpse into paradise only to wake up in hell.

Marian – why had she saved his life? _I could have loved you, and it scared me. _He remembered her words well; how often he had wished he could purge all her words and her face from his memory, but it was his hell that he still saw her before his inner eye even though he knew that she had betrayed him. Maybe it had been her conscience or more likely… _pity. _He almost hated her for it; he would be damned if he let other people pity him. For a moment, he wished she had not pleaded for his life.

Slowly he pulled out Anne's and Osgood's letter again and read it; then he put it away carefully. At some point he fell asleep. When he woke up, the carriage had stopped and he could hear the soldiers' voices and their laughter. Sleep had not brought rest; if anything, he felt even worse than before. His forehead felt hot, but he was shivering and his limbs were aching. There was no blanket in this carriage, so he curled up in a corner and tried to make himself as small as possible. At the castle they had thrown him a loaf of bread and a skin filled with water into the carriage. He knew he had to ration the water but he was too thirste, so he gulped greedily until the skin was empty. _Damn… his stomach… _Cramps were shaking him. With his fist he pounded against the inside of the carriage until a soldier poked his head through the door. "Whaddaya want?" he snapped and added, after one look at Guy: "Damn you if you puke up everything! - Out!"

"Why are ya letting him out, Albert? Let 'im puke and lie in 'is own filth", one of the other men said.

"And then? Who has ter clean out the carriage afterwards? No way, he won't run away. Just look at 'im. From the way he looks he's lucky if 'e makes it ter the border."

The men were gathered around a small camp fire and warming their limbs. The horses were tethered and grazing after they had been watered at a small pond. They were looking at Guy, who fell to his knees by a bush and threw up. The men laughed. Drained, Guy let himself fall on his back in the grass and closed his eyes.

"No, ya won't, pal! Get up! And filthy as ya are we can't take ya with us", Albert sneered and poured a bucket filled with icy water over Guy's head.

Gasping, Guy sat up and was promptly dragged to his feet and pushed back into the carriage. The door closed and shortly after the carriage rumbled on. While the water had refreshed him at first, he was now shivering even worse than before. The carriage floor was covered with straw and Guy tried to wipe himself with it but it didn't help much.

Dammit, the son of a bitch is not moving! I guess he's dead. I told ya: Cut his throat and be done with it. This entire journey's been for nuthin'", one of the men ranted.

From far away, Guy could hear the voice but he was too weak to stir to show that he was still alive. Albert had stepped into the carriage and kicked him; Guy moaned.

"He's still alive but not much longer I guess. C'me on, let's just throw him out here; t' is the border and our assignment's over now."

Both men took hold of his legs and dragged him out of the carriage. He hit the ground hard. _So this is it, _was his last thought.

Rhobert was driving on his donkey; he wanted to be back at the monastery before dusk and then enjoy some blessed silence. He sighed; he knew exactly why the Bishop had called for him again. Had he been a simple abbot they would have left him alone, but Rhobert ap Morthwyl was the third son of a Welsh prince and with that came connections the Bishop liked to make use of when it came to building a chapel or acquiring land for the Church.

Rhobert had never had much use for money or games of power. He was a learned man and was grateful to his mother for being able to read Plato and Aristotle even in the monastery. Most men in his abbey were hard-working and pious men, but sometimes he missed someone to talk to. Rhobert laughed out out; the Bishop was surely not one of those people. For a man of the Church he was a little too interested in money.

Only two miles more and he would be there; at the fork he had to turn right. Here, close to the English border there was usually all kinds of riffraff; only a few yards into the other direction and he would be on English ground. Fortunately, the English hadn't been particularly interested in this part of Wales so far; sometimes there was an advantage in being poor. He would… What was _that?_ Something, no, _someone_ was lying on the side of the road. Rhobert looked around and listened, but there was not a sound to be heard, no horse or carriage to be seen… Silence. Hastily he rode closer and dismounted.


	18. Chapter 18

Illusions 18

It was a man in his late twenties, his early thirties maybe, and he wasn't moving. Was he still alive at all? The abbot bent down and put his hand on the man's carotid artery. The heart was still beating and Rhobert noticed at once that the man was hot from fever. There did not seem to be any major injuries, although the head wound… There was not much time; if he hesitated any longer, that man might die under his hands. Looking at this man, he was once more glad about his own stature being more like a warrior's than a monk's. Most people were intimidated upon meeting Rhobert for the first time. He put his arms around the man, lifted him up and put him down on his donkey. He did not even stir once. Hopefully it wasn't too late.

Thoughtfully, Rhobert observed then man sleeping in his bed. After three days the fever had broken and he had managed to save him. Brother Angor had been able to keep him awake just long enough to make him drink some hot broth and water. His complexion was sallow and he looked gaunt and haggard even though his stature was the one of a strong man. There were several scars on his body, probably a result from fights, and some old welts on his back. Rhobert frowned; the man must have been but a little boy when he got those.

His clothing had been torn, but it was obvious that this man was not just a simple peasant. Maybe he had been robbed and left by the wayside to die, Rhobert had thought at first. However, this didn't explain why he had been lying there with a fever. Brother Angor had then given him a letter he had found up the man's shirt sleeve. A strange letter… It was written in English, so presumably the man was English, too. Rhobert would have to wait for the man to wake up and answer for himself… if he could. There, he had moved. One hand resting on the blanket had twitched slightly, and his eyelids were fluttering… a moan.

„Are you awake? Can you hear me?" a dark voice echoed from far away. Only with great effort could he open his eyes; his lids seemed leaden. He turned his head towards the voice and set eyes upon a fuzzy face. He blinked and the picture became focused.

He was lying on a bed, covered in several blankets and a man in a brown monk's habit was looking down at him. _A monastery, he was in a monastery! _His memory was coming back. The soldiers had thrown him out of the carriage at the Welsh border, and obviously, this man had found him. Cautiously, Guy propped himself up on one elbow and then sat up slowly. The man stuffed a pillow behind his back. "It was about time for you to wake up", he said in a solemn but friendly way. He looked into Guy's eyes and seemed relieved. "I'm Father Rhobert...Your eyes are focused again. You will hurt for a while, but you don't have to worry anymore. Are you thirsty?" Guy nodded and the monk poured him some fresh water from a pitcher and handed the cup to Guy. "You have been here for four days. Your family will be in great distress; tell me whom we should contact. What is your name?"

"Guy…."

„And….?" Rhobert was waiting.

„Only Guy, nothing else… just Guy."

The monk had addressed him in English; he must know that he was not Welsh. _Of course, the letter…_

Rhobert didn't say anything for a while, but when Guy remained silent as well, he finally nodded. "I will leave you alone now. It will take a while until you are well again, then we can talk. Brother Angor will bring you something to eat and we will include you in our prayers." _It's no use anymore, _Guy was about to say, but he did not utter the words.

The little toothless monk who brought him food told Guy that the man he had talked to earlier was the abbot, Father Rhobert, Rhobert Ap Morthwyl to be exact. He came old Welsh nobility. Pretty young for an abbot, Guy thought. The man was even younger than himself. The third son, Angor had said, so apparently, they gave one of the younger sons to the Church here as well. What a waste; recalling the abbot's stature, he would have made a fine warrior.

It was still dark when Guy woke up. He was feeling considerably better; his head seemed clear, so he pushed away the blanket. His knees were still wobbly when he left the bed and crossed the room over to the rough wooden table on which there were a wash basin, a pitcher and a clean cloth. He examined the room; he had been stripped of his torn clothing, but there was a clean garment on a chest. He washed himself and put it on. It was slightly big and made of fine fabric; it had probably belonged to the abbot once.

From somewhere he could hear the monks singing… early mass? Guy turned the door knob and the door opened with a squeak. He found himself in a circular corridor leading around a garden. Uncertain, he stood there; there was no one to be seen. The smell of freshly baked bread was wafting through the corridor and Guy suddenly noticed how hungry he was. He went back into his room; at some point after mass Angor would come and bring him his breakfast. He hadn't intended to leave anyway; he had only wanted to check if they had locked him in or if he would have been free to go. _And where would you go? _it hit him.

He sat down on the chair that was in the scantily furnished room. Thus, Rhobert found him.

„I see you're awake. You must be hungry. Would you like to keep me company? We can eat in my quarters. I usually eat with the brothers, but this time…" Guy stood up upon his inviting gesture and smiled to himself. Obviously it was now time for the _interrogation_. He followed Rhobert in a spacious albeit simply furnished room; much simpler than he would have imagined for an abbot. Several blankets covered the bed but no soft duvets. On one shelf, however, he discovered some books; those were treasures indeed.

Shortly after, a young monk brought fresh bread, fruit, cheese and water, and again Guy was astonished, even though he didn't show it. Rhobert said a short prayer and both men ate in silence. At some point, the abbot sat back and Guy expected a few introductory words and then the monk's questions, but Rhobert remained silent and just looked at him.

Finally Guy smiled and gave him a knowing look. "I thank you for your hospitality, Father Rhobert, and, from what I've heard, I owe you my life as well. I cannot even reimburse you for your hospitality; as you have seen I don't carry many possessions with me and haven't got anything else I call my own."

„And if you did, what would you give me in return for your life? It is too valuable to be bought. Our hospitality is free; you are a guest and we won't take any money", Robert replied and looked at Guy enquiringly.

"Precious?" Guy did not quite manage to suppress the contemptuous tone, and the abbot looked at him, astonished and surprised. Yet he did not answer. _Two can play this game. _Guy examined the abbot openly. Even sitting down, one could see that, despite his height, he was not unrefined. His features were regular, his hair dark blond, a few lighter strands here and there, and his eyes deeply blue. Guy noticed that his first impression had been correct; he was maybe three years younger than himself. Hands with long slim fingers were resting on his thighs and he seemed…calm, Guy though, for lack of a better word.

Rhobert reached into a little box on the table, withdrew the letter Anne and Osgood had written to him and pushed it over to Guy, together with the gold coin they had found in Guy's garments. "This belongs to you. I read the letter because I hoped it would give me a clue as to who you are. – You don't wish to tell me your name?"

Guy's fingers closed over the letter and, without noticing, stroked the parchment gently. "I have given you my name and you have read it as well. Listen, I… I am not a nobleman… and besides this coin, I'm destitute."

"Please listen to me, Guy", Robert replied solemnly. „I do not care for games and I don't like lies. I have seen your clothing, I have heard you talk and I know that you can read. I am not a fool; you are no simple peasant or labourer. What I wish to know is if your presence can endanger our monastery. You are an Englishman. Will you give me your word that you are no fugitive?"

"My word?" Guy asked incredulously. "What is my word worth to you? You don't know me… but… I will give you my word." As soon as he had spoken these words, he wished he could have taken them back. He didn't even have the right anymore to give his word of honour; he had no honour.

Rhobert nodded. "Fine. I will believe you. I still believe in the good in people", the abbot added. "My impression is that your word can be trusted."

"The only impression you will get are the burns on your hands when you burn them on me", Guy replied.


	19. Chapter 19

Illusions 19

Back in his chamber, Guy took the letter that Rhobert had given him back. He knew it by heart by now. _Your life will be what you make of it_. But what kind of life lay ahead of him? When he had risen, still weakened by the fever, he had moved his sword arm, had tried his muscles and the flexibility of his fingers and only then had he realised that it didn't matter any longer. Never again would he hold a sword in his hands. He wasn't a knight any longer and owned neither a horse nor weapons. Again and again he saw himself kneeling in the courtyard of the Tower of London, the humiliation….He didn't regret having tried to kill the King; he would do it again in the blink of an eye, but at the very moment, when he had knelt in the dust, he had remembered what he had sworn as a young knight; little had he kept.

During the following days, the abbot kept looking for Guy, who could not refuse without appearing rude. He knew that he owed his life to the monk, even if this life didn't mean anything to him now.

Rhobert saw that Guy was recovering physically, but he didn't like the obvious resignation and his lack of interest in his future. At the same time he seemed restless in a strange way. Rhobert had enough insight into human nature to understand that this man had a temper to match. Crossing him was probably dangerous, but this temper guided in the right direction…. Rhobert sensed Guy's mistrust and knew that every attempt to manipulate him could only go wrong. Obviously, he didn't want to reveal his innermost thoughts and a few days hence he would journey on. Even so, he didn't reject Rhobert's company and he turned out to be an excellent chess player.

Gloomily, Rhobert looked at his chess board; he would lose again. But then his mien brightened. _Perhaps if he moved the bishop to…_ "Are you going to tell me what you will do once you leave us?"

For a second Rhobert saw the trace of anger in Guy's eyes, but the man kept his countenance. "You know as well as I do that I don't have any plans for my future," he said evenly. I would be…grateful, if you gave me a simple garment and showed me the way to the next town. I will try to… hire out there… _Check_!"

Rhobert sensed how difficult it was for Guy to make this request. "Perhaps…." He hesitated. „Perhaps you could stay for a while. We are always in need of some helping hands for the labour the brothers cannot do due to their age. There are only few young men here." He grimaced. „Generally, the abbot is not the youngest monk in the monastery… Stables have to be cleaned, barrels to be carried. I won't pull the wool over your eyes. Our order is a poor one; it's hard work and we cannot pay much."

Guy kept silent, his face betraying nothing.

"You needn't be afraid that I'm offering you work in order to draw your secret from you," the abbot added and then grinned sheepishly. "…although I have to admit that I have a selfish motive; none of the brothers can play chess as good as you by far."

Guy knew that Rhobert had built a bridge for him by the playful way he had offered him work. Perhaps it was better this way and he should really stay here. And Rhobert was right; he didn't have to tell him more than he wanted."

"I'm staying," he said curtly. "Checkmate!"

Rhobert had not exaggerated; labour at the monastery was hard. But nevertheless it was a reprieve he needed. Eventually, he would have to leave the monastery and then he would face a life as a day- taler, his best years over, no money, no influence, and no family. What almost hurt most, surprisingly, was having no family. Often, he thought about Anne and Osgood and their letter had been read a hundred times by now.

The monks didn't ask any questions, although they had exchanged several surprised glances when the abbot had told them that Guy would stay, not as a guest but as a labourer. Another surprise was that Rhobert had been true to his word for he didn't ask any further questions either. Guy was given a sparse room and he joined the monks for their meals. He declined, however, when Rhobert invited him to attend mass with them. „It would be hypocrisy, Father Rhobert," he said without further explanation. He expected questions or admonitions, but Rhobert only said. "I'm not the one to put pressure on people or to talk them into something. If or when you are ready to join us, you are welcome anytime.

"You are certainly an extraordinary monk, Rhobert." For the first time in weeks Guy smiled.

"I know; I have been told numerous times. I'll see you later."

Rhobert looked at the chessboard, musing. They had made it a habit to play frequently in the evening. "A weakness," the abbot had admitted. "Competing with someone seems to be a part of me, although in this bloodless manner." He grumbled impatiently. "And as it seems I'm being punished right away or at least being taught humility. I thought I would be better at chess by now, but instead I'm losing again."

_Can it be that this man is __authentic?_ Guy asked himself time and again. He had been living in the monastery for several weeks and so far he hadn't noticed anything that would indicate that the man was harbouring ulterior motives. Meanwhile, Guy had learned some things about the abbot's past. "I cannot stand the sight of blood," Rhobert had laughed one day. "My father was rather embarrassed when I fainted like a girl after I had nicked my opponent in a sword fight."

Guy couldn't believe what he'd heard. This giant of a man had not been put into the monastery by his parents for some obscure reason; he was simply not meant to be a warrior. He loved nature and books and hated violence. Eventually his father had accepted that Rhobert would never be a knight, so his son had become a clergyman instead. If he had been hoping for an influential position for Rhobert, he saw himself disappointed again. Rhobert was not interested in a career and he joined an order not exactly known for its wealth. The Bishop made him an abbot after only a short time and Rhobert had always known that his father was behind this, although the latter had always denied it.

Where is Father Robert?" Guy looked around in the refectory. The abbot had not been at lunch – this happened from time to time – but now it was dinnertime and he was nowhere to be seen. Brother Dafydd's face was concerned. "He has been called to his father's deathbed. A breakdown and God alone knows whether Father Rhobert will be in time."

Ten days later Rhobert returned to the monastery. His father had died and the young abbot's pale, solemn face showed how deeply this death had affected him. He didn't talk much and some days went by until he asked Guy to join his for the usual chess play. He was, however, too preoccupied to concentrate on their play.

"You've good memories of your father, haven't you? Guy asked eventually. Rhobert nodded without uttering a word and Guy went on. "Treasure these memories…I …I will tell you a story."

_The memory of beatings was one of his first memories ever. Why did his father hate him so much? It was much later that his mother told him why Guillaume of Gisborne, whom he had regarded as his father, treated him so cruelly._

_Mary__ had been fifteen years old, when she had come to King Henry's court, the daughter of Simon of Tyrone, a man, who had excelled in several battles and had been knighted by the King, and Héloise de Tyrone, who had been borne in France. The King had been taken with the little courtlady and soon the girl had been too infatuated to resist the King's charm. King Eleanor was used to her husband's affairs and although she was resentful, she had learned to live with his flings. Usually these affairs were over after only a few weeks, but somehow this had been different. And then Mary got pregnant. Desperately, she turned to the King, but he had repudiated her cruelly and had asked her whether she even remembered with how many men she had slept. Mary had recoiled in shock. _

_It was much later that Mary learned the truth. Stirred up by his jealous mother, Henry's son Richard had spread evil gossip about the young woman, and the King had believed these lies to be true._

_She was fetched by her father and only two weeks later she had been married to Guillaume of Gisborne, a childless widower, even older as her father. Mary had got a large dowry and Guillaume had married the young woman he had needed to give him the desired heir. For this he had been willing to raise another man's child. But after Guy's birth, Mary remained childless and Guillaume looked with hatred upon the cuckoo in his house and his young wife, who bore his touches with merely suppressed revulsion._

_He had drunken before, but now the periods where he stayed sober, were scarce. Although Guy didn't remember everything, he knew only too well, how Guillaume had called Mary a worthless whore and had beaten her time and again. He took special pleasure in whipping the young boy to hurt his mother. And one day, Mary had not risen again, when her husband had struck her down. Guy would never forget the pool of blood on the floor, his own futile attempts to wake his mother up, her funeral…_

_His grandfather had been already dead and the grandmother had returned to her French family. A few months after his mother's death, his grandmother's steward had fetched Guy and had taken him to France, where he had grown up._

Rhobert had looked in shock at Guy. "So you are one of King Henry's natural sons?"

"One of many," Guy replied. "He was said to have about twenty bastards, some of them the spitting image of their father. It was only this occasion, however, that Queen Eleanor and her son Richard saw the need to get rid of a gullible young woman and the unwanted child." He paused. "This is part of the story, you always wanted to know; I only wanted to show you that you are happy with the joyful memories of your father." Seeing Rhobert's gaze, he added, „I definitely don't want you to pity me."

"I'm more than grateful," Rhobert said solemnly. "Not only because you trusted me enough to tell me your story but also for the comfort you gave me. _**I**_ should be the one to comfort people, but you….Thank you."

They remained silent until Rhobert asked pensively. "This is the reason for your hatred of King Richard, isn't it."

"I've hated him all my life," Guy replied in a flat voice. "… and I still hate him. …Hatred is what kept me alive when nothing else remained." His eyes flashed and he doubled his fists, but as quickly as his anger had risen, it disappeared, his face betraying nothing.

_He has learned to control and suppress his feelings_, Rhobert thought. "It was your hatred then that brought you to Wales?" he asked.

"I may tell you the rest of the story as well; it doesn't matter any longer," Guy said. "I have tried to kill the King on his crusade to the Holy Land. I have joined people I detested and I have broken every oath I have sworn as a young knight. You'll definitely want no truck with me."

"But I do," Rhobert replied. "And I want to be your friend."


	20. Chapter 20

I hope you'll enjoy my new chapter. Unfortunately, my daughter who read through my chapters or even translated some of them, has too tight a schedule to do so. So please be lenient with mistakes or clumsy expressions. If one of you would like to revise my translations, I'd be happy.

Describing King Richard the way I do, I don't have any qualms, since he had little interest in England and he ordered the infamous massacre at Acre, where many women and children were slaughtered. I don't know anything, however, about the Bishop of St.David's; his name was Peter de Leia and I don't want to insult his memory; so I decided to invent another one. (BTW: I found a bishop called Uhtred in Wales.)

The Lord Rhys I will mention later on is Rhys ap Gruffydd, the Prince of South Wales and ruler of the Kingdom of Deheubarth. He was forced to submit to King Henry II and later on Richard I, but he always struggled to overcome the English supremacy.

Illusions 20

Guy stared at Rhobert for a moment, surprised. He didn't know what he had expected but not….this. Perhaps he should have known the young abbot good enough to know that he would not condemn him. – And then he did something that surprised him himself. "It is good to have a friend, Rhobert."

During the following weeks Rhobert learned the rest of Guy's past. "I won't sugarcoat what you did. Some of these things were terrible and you had to pay dearly….Did you happen to know that the famous King David from the Bible committed a murder?"

Guy had not known and was flabbergasted when Rhobert told him the story. Who would have thought this…King David, a murderer because of a beautiful woman he had seen bathing. Because of a woman….Marian…His face wore an expression Rhobert knew to interpret. There were longing and hopelessness he had seen so often in the face of his new friend. This woman's betrayal had wounded him deeply and dealing with her pity now….

What would you do, if you could start all over again, Guy?" Rhobert asked one day. Guy himself had thought about it many times. The monastery was a silent place and when he lay down in his room at night, he had often pondered his past."

"I would change many things, but I can't regret having assassinated the King."

Rhobert didn't reply anything. He had not expected that some weeks in a monastery and under his influence would extinguish a whole life of violence. Perhaps he could be grateful for the change in Guy he had seen himself.

"Hatred is a bitter root and it harms oneself, Guy. …Have you…have you ever thought of remaining here in the monastery?

Guy knew what Rhobert meant and he was tempted to take him up at his word. It was peaceful here although he didn't know what to do with the God Rhobert served. He had come to love the silence in the monastery and knew he was accepted. Of course sometimes there was some friction or petty jealousy, but, as Rhobert had pointed out, there was no paradise on earth.

"I'm not the most pious of monks and have even some doubts concerning a number of dogmas," Rhobert added after a while. "But on the other hand I have found that this way I had not intended to go, was good for me. I didn't want to become a monk, only was sure that I didn't want to be a warrior, and here I am. Perhaps it can be similar with you."

Eventually Guy shook his head. „I would be poor because I don't have the opportunity to become rich, I would be chaste because the woman I loved didn't reciprocate my love and I have obeyed my whole life – and look what it has brought me."

"I just thought so," Rhobert replied and nodded, then laughed. "But nevertheless I wanted to ask you, just in case…and who should I play chess with in future?" Somewhat more serious he continued. "What will you do then? You're an Englishman and this will be a problem for you here in Wales. People hate everything that has to do with England and Lord Rhys won't hire you as a soldier. And you don't even talk our language properly." His eyes gleamed mischievously. "But you will!"

Guy grimaced; of course he knew that Rhobert was right; he had to learn the language, but Welsh was unpronounceable.

Rhobert grinned. "Let's face it; you're not overly talented."

Guy laughed and this was something Rhobert liked very much; probably he hadn't laughed much in the past.

Having a friend around him who seemed to understand him was new to the abbot. His father had loved him and his brothers had liked him; for his mother he would always remain the little one, even there was nothing to mother with a grown man who topped her by twenty inches. Nevertheless he had always been different and this had been a burden to him. And even here, in the quiet of the monastery, he was aware of being different. Neither had he been put into a monastery as a child because the family didn't have enough money to raise another child, nor had he felt a vocation to become a monk. Of Course, the brothers knew the prayers, liturgy and Mass by heart, but many of them could not read or write and he couldn't share his love of books with them. It was odd, he and Guy was as different as they come, but there was a kind of spiritual kinship as he had called it for lack of a better word.

Rhobert shook his head, musing; perhaps one of his brothers could help, although…If Robert thought of Griffin taking an _Englishman_ as his soldier….no, this was not possible…

A letter from the Bishop. Without having the gift of prophecy, Rhobert was able to predict why the Bishop had called him and what he would have to say.

Wasn't the death of Morthwyl a wonderful opportunity for Rhobert's brother Griffin, who was their father's heir, to donate a church? And wasn't it his duty to point out to Griffin what he could do for his father's salvation?

Rhobert knew that the Bishop was not content with him. Obviously, Cadarn had expected more gratitude for the appointment as an abbot, maybe even gratitude in coin. But even if Rhobert's father had suggested this appointment, the Bishop had been wrong about him. He would never have bribed someone. He asked and you were free to do to his bidding or to reject.

And now, once more, he was called to the Bishop…

Before evening Mass Rhobert had told the brothers that he would travel to St. David's, later he talked to Guy. "I will leave in the morning; another call from the Bishop I cannot avoid." He sighed. "The journey to Bishop Cadarn is certainly a trial…humility and obedience, you know. It will probably two weeks until I return.

I will accompany you," guy said abruptly. "Perhaps I can find work in St. David's. I'm very grateful for your friendship, Rhobert, but I cannot stay forever. Brother Angor told me that you use to travel alone. I know that the journey might not be safe even for a monk." Then he grinned. "And now that I know that you cannot stand the sight of blood, I cannot let you go alone."

Rhobert saw Guy's determination; he would miss his friend, but he knew that he was right. He nodded and then said. "Wait here!" he left the room and returned with a big knife. "This is from the kitchen; actually it's for cutting meat…Guy, promise me that you will use it for defence only."

"I promise." He took the knife and tucked it in his belt. Rhobert looked at his friend. "You are looking not much different than before, but somehow I can see the warrior in you; it's in your blood. You were probably right; you would not have been a good monk."

The next morning the friends left for St.David's. Rhobert had given some garments to Guy the brothers had shortened and a big ham was stowed in a bad. "I would give you the donkey as well, but it belongs to the monastery," Rhobert said apologetically. Guy smiled. "Your friendship is the most precious I have had in my life. You may keep the donkey."

The forests and hills of Wales seemed to be endless and Rhobert took the opportunity to teach his friend some Welsh words and idioms. So far they had not met a living soul and the next village was far away. Guy heard the twittering of the birds and the rustling in the grass and in the bushes when they drew near and startled a fox or a deer. But suddenly he heard a sound that was somehow….different. This was not a scared animal, this was…. He jerked his knife out of the belt and at that very moment three men burst out of the scrub, two of them swinging clubs and a third one a big knife. They had seen Rhobert's monk's habit and knew that monks were not able to fight and thus easy prey. Noticing Guy's knife, they stopped short and this split second was sufficient for Guy to kick the knife out of the brigand's hand. Robbed of his weapon, the man took to his heels.

Rhobert had slipped from the donkey more quickly than one would have expected of such a big man. "Lord, forgive me," he murmured briefly and then a punch incapacitated the second robber. "Rhobert, look out!" he heard Guy cry out and turned around quickly. He heard a gurgling sound as the third man, Guy's knife in his heart, collapsed. Then everything went black.

"What….what?" With an effort, he sat up.

"You fainted. The robber would have clubbed you any moment on the head and I threw my knife. The sight of his blood…."

Rhobert was still a little shaky, but he walked over to the two men lying in the grass. One of them was still unconscious and the other was lying there, covered with a cloak. Rhobert understood that it was not piety that had made Guy cover the corpse but the knowledge that his friend would probably faint again if he saw the blood; he grimaced. The young abbot spoke a short prayer for the dead man, while the other robber began to groan, obwiously coming to his senses. He opened his eyes but dared not get up. Haltingly, he gazed at Rhobert and Guy, who looked down at him.

"I think you are well aware what has become of your crony. A life cannot be restored. You may go…But remember that those who sow the wind will reap the whirlwind." The man didn't need to be told twice. Quick as lightning he was up and away, disappearing in the bushes without even glancing at his dead cully.

"Do you think he will learn something from it?" Guy asked.

„I don't think so," Rhobert replied sombrely. "He didn't care that his friend was dead; he didn't even look at him. Probably he considers us dimwits for letting him go."

Guy nodded and they continued their journey, mostly in silence. Three days later they arrived late at night in St. David's, tired and exhausted.


	21. Chapter 21

**A great thank you for rereading my story for mistakes, xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx**

Illusions 21

Rhobert was well known and the Bishop's guard let him enter without further questions. Shortly thereafter an old spindly priest approached them. "Welcome, Abbot Rhobert," He gazed friendly at the young abbot and cast a brief glance at Guy. "Of course, you are exhausted and it is too late to pay your respects to His Excellency. No doubt you want to retire as soon as possible. Your lad may sleep in the stables. I will see to it that you get something to eat. Please follow me."

Rhobert had flinched inwardly at the priest's words. He could well imagine how Guy felt at the moment, but he could not change anything. "We'll talk tomorrow," he said to Guy. "I'll tell the servants that they are to bring you something to eat, too."

Guy knew that this was the beginning of his new life. The sooner he got used to it the better. He didn't say anything, only looked at Rhobert's departing figure and went slowly towards the stables - Bishop Cadarn - probably the wish had been father to the thought when his parents had named him 'strong'. He was a short podgy man with a red face and bags under his dodgy eyes. His nose was small and shaped like a pig's and although he avoided movement at all costs, he was constantly wiping his sweaty brow and neck. Rhobert bowed his knee and kissed Bishop's ring. Surreptitiously, he glanced around. He could not like the luxury he saw and he was well aware that the Bishop's red nose was not ascribe to too much sun. It was not only the servants knew that the Bishop appreciated a good wine.

"Sit down, sit down," Cadarn said hastily. "And you must take a sip of wine; of course you are still tired and there is nothing like a little wine…." Rhobert knew he could not refuse without annoying Cadarn. His modest way of life was a constant irritant for his superior, since it gave him a bad conscience. Rhobert poured from the jar, which was standing on the carved little desk beside the Bishop's stool, and took a sip. On another table he noticed a precious book of psalms.

Cadarn saw Rhobert's gaze, and sighed. "Oh, it's a hard lot that I am forced to bear. My eyes…you see…my vision is blurred and so my joy to read the psalms daily was taken from me. Yes, yes, I could have it read to me, but you know how it is…Not even all of the priests are able to read Latin properly and to destroy the beauty of the psalms thus…." He sighed again. "And as for travelling….it seems rather dangerous as your own example shows. You know how important a visit at Lord Rhys' court would be. But if those brigands don't even shrink away from attacking the servants of the Church….I've already known, but Lord Rhys said that he cannot spare some soldiers to protect me. He even said that I had enough money to pay for my protection myself. I don't know what might have given him the idea.

Rhobert could have told him what gave Lord Rhys this idea, but he preferred to keep silent and instead took another sip of wine. His brother Griffin had once told him that Lord Rhys had been called a fat hypocrite – of course not to his face – and was rather glad to be able to keep him at bay. The excuse with the soldiers had worked very well so far.

"How awful to be confined to these chambers," Cadarn complained whiney voiced. "There are so few people, who are willing to do the Church a service…." He nipped at his tankard and gazed at Rhobert through heavy-lidded eyes. "How is your brother, Abbot Rhobert? Would it be a comfort to him, if I read Mass for his father personally?" he continued rather abruptly and the abbot blinked, confused. Then he understood. Bishop Cadarn had indeed realised that Griffin like his father before him would never donate a church. Griffin would not, however, deny the Bishop's request for escort to Cardigan Castle. Perhaps Griffin would even be glad to get off so lightly.

"Your Excellency, perhaps I could send a message to my brother and tell himof your unfortunate situation. He might be able to escort you to the court ofLord Rhys," Rhobert replied and Cadarn smiled, satisfied.

You do that; it's an excellent idea. The best idea would be if you set about directlyafter the noon prayer."

Rhobert realised that he was dismissed and rose. He bowed his knee and kissedthe ring the Bishop held out to him. "I will send the messenger immediately, Your Excellency." He headed towards the door and opened it. "Your Excellency, perhaps I know someone who could read to you; he is an Englishman however."

"An Englishman!" Cadarn said indignantly, only to add a little less resolute. "Oh well, we won't be partial. Does he belong to your order and….would he accompany me for charity's sake?"

"He is not a monk," Rhobert replied. "….but a friend and I vouch for him. "It was he, who protected me during my voyage….And I believe that you don't have to spend the Church's money."For a moment it was obvious that the fact that the Englishman was the Abbot's friend, and this was not exactly a recommendation in the Bishop's eyes, but then the chance to save money won. "Err, well, as I said, the Church cannot be partial. If he is a humble person and saved your life and….if you vouch for him…"

_Guy? Humble?_ Rhobert's face didn't betray him; he bowed again and left the room.

_Griffin, _

_I'm writing from the Bishop's palace and you know what__ that means. He has an urgent request and I thought it a good moment so shortly after Father's death. Obviously, he has realised that our family won't bestow any money to him and he is trying to increase his influence. I don't know what he expects of travelling to Lord Rhys' court, since Lord Rhys isnot exactly keen on seeing him – and nor am I. I shouldn't say this; but this is the way it is.. The Bishop desires the escort free of charge and he will read Mass for Father. – Not that our old Kaplan could not do this herself. If you agree to this, you will be rid of Bishop Cadarn for a while and I can return to the monastery, which I will be very glad of. There I am able to breathe freely. Griffin, you know that I have never asked anything of you, but there is something that is very important to me. It is not about me but about a friend. I already hear you say "Granted!" but you have to hear some more thereof. My friend Guy is an Englishman. "I trust him completely and he saved my life during my trip. __There are reasons why I can't tell you more. __Bishop Cadarn is looking for someone who will read to him. I don't think that anybody will put up with the Bishop for more than a few weeks, but perhaps this may to Guy's advantage. The Bishop won't pay anything, but I am asking you to pay Guy the same one of your soldiers would get, let's say, for half a year._

Your brother Rhobert

Griffin smiled at the first sentences of Rhobert's letter. Although Rhobert was the abbot of a monastery now, he still talked and wrote as he used to, and he was right. The escort to Cardigan Castle would keep him at arm's length for a while.

But then his mien became sombre. What had Rhobert thought to stand up for an Englishman? But then Griffin sighed; his brother had always been too benign a man, but nobody would have said that he was naï ve . If Rhobert trusted this man, he would grant his wish. And perhaps this Guy was only a young man, who wanted to take service with the Church. Perhaps…

But somehow he was still worried about it when he gave his answer to the messenger.

A week later Rhobert returned to the monastery. He was not positive, however, whether he had done Guy a favour to recommend him to the Bishop.

He was glad that he had taught Guy the Welsh language, but the most important thing Guy would need in the presence of the Bishop was something he already possessed: self-control!


	22. Chapter 22

A great thank you to xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx for reading through my chapter. Since my first language is not English, I was happy that she offered to correct my - hopefully not too many - mistakes.

Illusions 22

The King had spared Guy's life, but Marian had never known, if he lived after all. The soldiers would throw him out of the cart somewhere at the Welsh border – if they even bothered. Marian looked out of the window and watched the cart disappear. Guy's last glance had been so full of hatred and she had not had the opportunity to talk to him for a last time; probably, he would not have been willing to see her anyway. In the courtyard she saw Osgood of Gringstow staring after the cart and then returning to the palace, his footsteps tired.

The Gringstows….Though sad, Marian smiled. Robin had been so sure that they had come to see Guy hang; he wouldn't have thought it possible that anybody loved that man. Anne and Osgood had told her about Guy's time with them and Marian had been stunned. The man she had known to be of a sullen nature, had been completely different with his _aunt and uncle._ Anne had told her how withdrawn he had been at first and how she had liked to see him laugh.

Had she been so wrong about him? She had been attracted to him, but had been disgusted by herself for having feelings for such a cruel man. Time and time again she thought of his words _There is another side to me you do not know_. She was still standing at the window when she heard a knock at the door.

A servant bowed. "My lady, Sir Osgood and Lady Anne would like to talk to you." Marian nodded and the servant bowed again and then left the room. Only a short while later Anne and Osgood arrived. Osgood's face showed the lines all of his years; he was shattered by everything he had seen, and his wife Anne was pale and exhausted, her face tear-stained. "We wanted to wish you well, since we are leaving today." She smiled wistfully and Marian knew what she was thinking. With Guy gone, their home was an empty building now. "Osgood managed to give a letter to Guy without the guards noticing and Guy learned about your role in his release," Anne continued.

"My Lady," Osgood added. "Is there anything you need; may we do you a service? We heard… rumours among the servants about your engagement to Robin of Locksley and about a gift from the King…Your plea for Guy's life has obviously annoyed many people and certainly rendered you a disservice.

Marian gazed at the two people who were merely strangers but who offered her help. "I'm so grateful and … you are right – there is no use to sugar-coat this – but I don't want to burden you. I have to deal with this myself."

Osgood nodded; he saw her determination and had expected as much. "If you should need my help, please notify me. We wish you well, my lady." Some hours later Osgood and Anne left the Castle and returned to Brycgstow.

The next three days passed without Marian seeing Robin again. Did he intend to punish her because she had pleaded for Guy's life or was there something _significant_ – as there always was? She had lost all illusions that she had ever had about playing an important part in Robin's life. Probably he had never been as interested in her as in his adventures and fights. If she was honest to herself….she would be relieved if he broke the engagement… And suddenly she knew that she could not marry Robin, even if this meant that the life she had always dreamt of would fall to pieces. But then she froze: The King had not shied away from showing her in a blunt manner that he desired her, although she was his friend's fiancée, the moment she broke the engagement, she was fair game.

She was not so naïve to think that her plea for Guy's freedom would remain a secret. She had not friends at the court and only her affiance with Robin had protected her from open hostility and contempt.

She didn't stand a chance, however, against the King, but she'd rather work as a servant again than to get involved with him. Guy's comparison of her to the whores in the tavern preyed on her mind. She knew Guy was different than how she had always thought, but he had also been wrong about her. She wouldn't be able, though, to show him.

Marian shuddered when she thought of the man who was king of England. He was a good looking man with a charisma not many people failed to notice and he knew it. It was not that she was not grateful. He had offered her a reward, that much was true, but it was much later that she had realised what she had asked for. She had begged for the life of the man who had tried to murder him. Even if she knew that the King had ulterior motives for granting her wish, she _was_ grateful. Without King Richard's expectation she would become his lover, Guy would have been executed.

But she would never show the kind of gratitude the King expected….What would happen when the King realised that she didn't have the intention to share his bed?

And another thing had occurred to her: She was in danger to lose herself. What had become of the woman she had once been?

.


	23. Chapter 23

I know, It has been a while, but sometimes there is a thing calles real life.... A great thank you to my dear beta, who read over my chapter in only a day. *sending flowers*

Illusions 23

_How long will it be until he has me called? Or does he want me to do the first step?_ Perhaps this was the reason for him waiting. She had come to him when she had pleaded for Guy's life and now the King wanted her to show her gratitude – voluntarily. She could postpone it for a little while, but eventually she would have to talk to him. Marian looked out of the window. As though the weather wanted to indicate her future, dark clouds agglomerated at the sky and a few minutes later the wind beat at the trees in the courtyard and the rain poured down forming large puddles. Marian shivered and wrapped herself in a warm woollen shawl. She would search for the old servant, who had brought her to the King before.

King Richard smiled; he had been right. Lady Marian was no timid, modest goose who would wait like the proverbial lamb. Instead she was coming to him…very good! He would enjoy her immensely. She was a beauty; Robin had taste to give him his due; he'd always been a ladies' man. But the King also knew that Robin would never be faithful to one woman and would probably be grateful if he could go back on his marriage proposal. Why buy a cow if all you needed was a gallon of milk?

Could Lady Marian indeed be so naive as not to know that an affair with the King would not remain unnoticed, that there was nothing you could more rely on than the gossip of the servants? Afterwards a marriage to Robin would be impossible. Or was it possible that she wasn't interested in this marriage after all? He would find out.

Richard nodded to his servant. "Bring Lady Marian to me."

The old man shuffled through the hallway towards the King's chambers. He had bowed and had kept a straight face when she had told him that she wanted to talk to the King. He had served King Richard since his childhood and utterly loyal to him, but nevertheless she had the feeling he would disapprove of a relationship between herself and his master; there was a hint of a reprimand in his eyes.

He opened the door and Marian took a deep breath and bowed deep. She was in the lion's den in the truest sense of the word; slowly she approached the man, who was sitting in his usual chair and again she felt his charisma he was well aware of. Her knees nearly buckled and she felt dizzy. Richard was looking at her, silent and patient.

The very moment she rose again and the King saw her eyes, he knew he had been wrong. His lips curled angrily. Didn't she know that grown men trembled before his gaze? But this young woman didn't seem to be intimidated - despite her respectful bow. Richard felt her inner rebellion and he glanced at her with icy green eyes, his gaze boding ill. "My Lady...?" With satisfaction he noticed that she avoided his gaze and was biting her lower lip. Aaah, not quite as confident as it had seemed at first...

"Your Majesty, I knew that I had to talk to you," Marian said eventually. "..although I still do not know how to begin. It was only after my plea for Guy of Gisborne's life that I realised how outrageous my request to spare his life must have appeared to you. If Robin had not come just in time to save you at that fateful day in Acre...." She paused and looked into the King's face that had not brightened despite her respectful words. "It takes a great king to do something like this and I am more grateful than I am able to express."

King Richard rose and approached her, reaching out for her.

Marian hesitated and the King nodded slowly; his eyes had a hard glance and his lips curled contemptuously. "Did you really think you could smooth me by some flattering remarks? Madam, pray, don't take me for a fool to fall for the flattery of a woman…," he sneered.

"Your Majesty…"

„…a woman, who does not know her place," he continued.

"….please believe me…"

"Enough!" Richard interrupted her cuttingly, but after a pause he added in a deceptively calm voice. "It is late and you may wish to retire. I got the impression that you are exhausted and I will take care that you will be able to have the rest you deserve."

Marian swallowed, but there was nothing left for her than to bow and leave the room. The King had turned away and didn't give her so much as a glance. Marian knew that there would be ramifications. Dazed, she returned to her room.

The Kind was standing at the window for a while; then he fetched a little bell on the table nearby and only a short time later his old servant entered. "Tell the Earl of Huntington that I want to talk to him."

Robin was used to be called to the King even late at night; he took a cloak and followed the servant. When he entered and bowed he saw at once that something was … _different_. Richard was pacing; he seemed to be unsettled and in a strange mood. "Sit, sit, Robin," he said eventually. "You know that you are much more to me than a faithful subject. You have sacrificed much and you have saved my life. You are a friend and you have a place at my side not many people have." He laid a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Robin, it would hurt me to know that you'd risk all this because you shoes the wrong woman."

"What…?"

"No, Robin, my friend, hear me out. I know what she has done for England's sake, but surely you have realised that a woman like her is not fit for the King's court. The woman you marry, must do you honour. My mother told me that Mathilda of Dwinington was very impressed by you and a woman like her would raise your ….instead of tearing it down like Marian of Knighton, as much as I dislike having to tell you. Lady Marian has not even bothered to follow the rules at my court and this story about Gisborne…. I needn't tell you what kind of impression this made on my faithful knights and courtiers and what people are thinking of her. Is she really the woman you wish to marry?"

Robin felt as if he had been slapped in his face. He had not known how bad her plea for Gisborne's life had sullied Marian's reputation. And the worst part was – the King was right. Marian was no longer the sweet woman he had loved back in Nottingham. Often she was sullen and ungrateful for what she had been given here at the King's court. If he had not given the promise to marry her…. His throat felt dry and he harrumphed. "your Majesty….it is…I cannot go back from my word…"

Richard smiled; he had been right. What are friends for, Robin? I'll help you. My impression is that Lady Marian is somewhat exhausted. I will take care that she will have time to recover for a while and I think the nunnery in Middletown will be a good choice."

"Middletown? Never heard of it." Robin frowned.

"It's not far from Shrewsbury." The King watched Robin through half closed eyelids and saw how he tensed.

"Shrewsbury…" he murmured and stared at an imaginary point on his hands, not able to look into the King's face. This was far away, so far that it was nearly a banishment and it was near … the _Welsh_ boarder. He swallowed. His gaze met the King's then as he realised what this meant. Even if she returned eventually, everybody would think where the abbey was and there would be rumours. A marriage would not be possible any longer. "Think, Robin, think! If Lady Marian really loved you as you believed, would she have really pleaded for your and your King's worst enemy's life? Would she have behaved in a way that causes everyone to wonder what her motives are? Are you sure that you really know her, Robin?"

Richard saw at once that he had hit the mark. Robin's gaze hardened and he clenched his fists. The King had spoken aloud what he had thought himself a hundred times. How could she have compromised him in such a way?.... And when had she told him the last time that she loved him? Robin nodded slowly and saw that the King relaxed.

"Believe me, Robin, it is the right decision, not only for you but for England; I need you. And Lady Marian will realise that unless she is willing to endure the most vicious gossip at the court for some time, a retreat to a nunnery for some…. months… will benefit her as well. And…well…the situation is hard for her, this I will admit, and eventually she will receive a handsome dowry from my own treasury to marry someone who suits her better. I will personally help her to choose a fitting husband. " _And believe me, my dear, it will be my pleasure._

Richard himself had told Marian where she would recover from the exhausting events at the court. Robin had come to her only a day later. His gaze had avoided her eyes. _How long shall I stay in the nunnery?_ she had asked and had not got an answer. She had not expected anything else; Robin had become the King's puppet and would parrot anything Richard told him. The Robin Hood she had once known had never allowed her to be transported to a nunnery in the middle of nowhere without any prospect of getting back. But all this remained unsaid; it would have been no use anyway. Eventually she had opened the door and had looked at him for a last time. "Good bye, Robin. Don't bother to write." The man she had loved once had blushed furiously and had left the room hastily. She had not seen him again.

Only a few days later a carriage left for Middletown. Marian leaned her head against the cushions and closed her eyes when they left the Tower. She didn't want to see anything of this magnificent building that would only remind her of her foolish dreams which had burst like a bubble.


	24. Chapter 24

Illusions 24

_Middletown?_ She had never heard of this nunnery before. She had asked the chaplain then, and he had told her that it was a small convent at the Welsh border, built for St. Wulfhilda, her bones being buried there up to this day. The pious woman had thrown herself between two quarrelling men to avoid a blood bath. The feud between the families had been going on for ages, Welsh against English, English against Welsh, none of them willing to yield. Probably at some time it would have become more than just a family feud; wars had started for lesser reasons. The upraised sword had wounded her mortally, and this had sobered the men instantly. Some time later there had been several mysterious incidents at the grave of the slain woman, healings from sword wounds, from sickness or a usually deathly illness; some years later an abbey had been built, but this was all the chaplain knew. – And this was the place where she would be brought.

She should have known what the plea for Guys life would mean for her. She had never been popular at the Court, but when it had become known that she had gone to the King to ask for Guy's life, the courtiers had begun to give her the cut direct. Even the servants fulfilled their duties only hesitatingly and sloppily. Marian didn't have any illusions about certain other rumours that circulated about her and of course, Robin must have heard them too and even if he didn't believe them…. She had not only lost her fiancé but also her friend and was on her way to an unknown destination and an unknown destiny. And if she decided to flee or to leave the abbey without the King's consent – Where should she go?

Servants had packed several chests with warm clothing, combs, her silver and golden bracelets and brooches, mirrors, shoes, everything a woman of her standing was entitled to. The carriage that brought her to Middletown was comfortable and upholstered, but nevertheless Marian knew that she was a mere prisoner.

Autumn was approaching and Marian wrapped up in a soft woollen blanket; eventually, due to the rocking of the carriage and drugged with fatigue, she fell asleep. It had to be hours later when she woke. The carriage had come to a halt and the door opened. "My lady…?" Walter of Creighton, the young officer who accompanied her, greeted her politely and she was grateful for his respect.

"My lady…," the soldier repeated. "It will be dark very soon and we will stay here until tomorrow." He pointed at the dim silhouette of little inn, barely noticeable against the dark trees and offered her his hand to help her out of the carriage. Some time later Marian stretched out under several itchy blankets; he had to be grateful, was her last thought before she fell asleep, that she had not seen rats or cockroaches.

Three days later they reached the Abbey of Middletown. It was only a small building that had seen better days and it accommodated not even thirty, mostly elderly, nuns. There was also a hamlet about a mile away and some farms somewhere. Indifferently Marian glanced at the abbey. Everything had remained silent and had it not been for the closed wooden gate, she would have thought the abbey abandoned. This was no rich nunnery, that much was obvious, but she had been sure of it before. Rich abbeys were destined to be the target of brigands and this cloister had only survived because St. Wulfhilda seemed to be impartial and had healed the wounds of English as well as Welsh.

The young officer knocked and a nun opened a little window in the gate. Marian saw him handling over a letter with the royal seal and then the window was closed again. Only a short time later the bolt at the gate was pushed away and the door opened, creaking. The coachman clicked his tongue and the horses pulled the carriage into the courtyard.

An old nun with a weathered face was standing in front of the old masonry, waiting as Marian descended from the carriage. She was petite but had an air of authority nonetheless. Her blue eyes were still sharp and she eyed the young woman, who would be her guest for an indefinite time, with reserve but not unkindly. She noticed at once that Marian was pale and worn out and if she was right, this was not only due to the exhausting trip. But of course the abbess had known that the circumstances could not be normal; a young lady being sent here for recovery was highly unlikely. There were several rich abbeys more than apt for sensitive young ladies. Middletown was definitely not one of them.

"Welcome, my child," she said. "I'm Mother Katherine…you look weary. Do you want to retire right away and we will talk tomorrow?" he asked mildly. "Sister Clothilde will show you to your room and bring you something to eat."

"Thank you so much, Mother Superior. I would gladly like to retire to my room," Marian replied, a brittle smile on her lips, and then addressed Walter of Creighton, who was still waiting beside the coach. "I'm indebted to you for your kindness," she said solemnly and followed the young nun, the abbess had called Clothilde.

The abbess glanced at the flustered young officer, who had blushed furiously and was still staring at Marian's retreating figure. "We have a little guest house outside the walls where you and you men can stay overnight. There is only a hamlet about a mile away and there is no inn. I will get you something to eat, too."

The soldier blinked and nodded slowly. "Uhm….Thank you….I'm grateful for your hospitality." He bowed and was going to retreat as the abbess addressed him again. "I can assure you that I'm not overly curious, but it is more than unusual that a young lady of the King's court is sent to us. Could you tell me something about it?"

Walter of Creighton swallowed. "Well, uhm, yes, Mother Superior…Lady Marian has displeased his Majesty…" The abbess waited; she had expected something like this. Sir Walter drew a deep breath. "There was some talk about a traitor…. And I don't believe in the rumours being spread about the young lady." He paused and the old nun eyed him kindly. "I don't want to abash you and you are right not to spread gossip. Lady Marian will probably tell me in due time what has happened." The young nobleman bowed again and strode away.

But time passed from days to weeks and still the abbess had not succeeded in breaking through Marian's barrier of taciturnity. She spoke, but not more than was necessary and never said anything about herself. She could not be coaxed into eating properly and lost weight she couldn't afford to lose. Sadness surrounded her that had nothing to do with the moods of a spoilt young woman, who missed the Court. Mother Katherine began to worry.

"Blessed is the man, who…." From half-closed lids Bishop Cadarn eyed the man, who was sitting on the chair opposite him. _What did Father Rhobert think to recommend a man like this? Instead of being grateful to serve a person of high standing like him and to show the appropriate humbleness…this overbearing, piercing gaze…I will get rid of him as soon as possible; there is something that gives me the creeps, something…_ "My son, I feel exhausted and will try to rest for a while. Besides….Well, since I have taken you in my service, I am responsible for your spiritual welfare. Tomorrow I will hear your confession."

"Thank you, your Excellency," Guy replied. "Father Rhobert has shriven me before he returned to the monastery."

"Well, then…." The bishop pursed his lips indignantly. "I will accept it…for now, but of course it is of the greatest concern to me that those you serve the Church walk unblemished." The bishop rose and held out his hand for a kiss on the ring.

Guy knew that Cadarn would have preferred to have him gone as soon as possible and he abhorred every minute he had to spend in the presence of this hypocrite. The clergyman had only taken him into service because he didn't have to pay for it and because Rhobert's brother had promised to take him to Lord Rhys' court. The bishop reminded him of Sheriff Vaysey, not outwardly, but he was greedy, devious and craved power, just like Vaysey had.

If only he had a horse! But it was no need to think about it. The piece of gold Anne and Osgood had given him, was not enough by far. Guy knew that he had no future in Wales; he was English and this was more than just a minor flaw. Perhaps he should return to France; it couldn't be worse than here and in France, he understood the language much better than here and he would be able to go into service as a soldier. Even if he had not detested Bishop Cadarn, this kind of occupation was not for him. How long had it been since he had had a sword in his hands and a horse between his thighs? Yes, he would take his leave; he would write a letter to Rhobert and leave with the next ship to France.

From the beginning, Guy had mostly kept to his room or had roamed the woods, when he was off duty. He had not made any friends and he had not wanted too. He felt that most of the people resented him because he was English, but he had not cared; he had always been a loner. The decision to leave Wales took a load off his mind and he breathed freely. The only thing he regretted was that he would never see Rhobert again, but what kind of future awaited him here? There was no alternative than to leave. He would kind of celebrate his decision with ale in the tavern and would inform the bishop tomorrow. Guy smiled; Cadarn would utter some sanctimonious words of regret and would barely be able to conceal his glee.

Guy had noticed that the soldiers were watching him. Obviously, they were more than a little drunk and time and again they had darted malignant glances at him. Eventually, one of the men rose, swaying, and nearly tripping over the chair that had toppled over.

"Whattaya wan' here, Englishman?" he grumbled."Shouldn't ya pray with the bishop?" When Guy didn't react, the soldier planted himself in front of Guy. "Answer me, b***d!"

Grinning, the soldier looked at his comrades, baring a row of rotten teeth, three of them already missing, although he could not be old. He was a bulky man, bigger than Guy, with brown, matted hair and a pimpled face; his breath was foul. Guy was staring in his beer and had still not said anything. "You stinking son of a w***e, you think you're above answering me!" the drunkard roared. "Just you wait!"

The man's fist never touched Guy. While the men were still laughing and cheering their friend on the Englishman's hand suddenly thrust upward, knocking the drunken soldier to the ground. The man stared; nobody had even seen him move.

Damn! This had been a mistake; he should have left when he had seen the men's glances over even muttered an apology when the drunkard had provoked him. But he had never been good at tolerating insults and now it was too late. He only hoped it would be possible to escape from the tavern. It seemed as if he would have to leave the country earlier than intended.

The laughter and the talk had died away and from the corner of an eye Guy saw one of the men drawing his dagger, approaching him. Another soldier blocked the door, but, fast as lightning, Guy pulled out the knife Rhobert had given him and jumped on the table and then over to the door tackling the soldier. When the knife jabbed his shoulder, the man cried out, stumbling aside. Guy yanked the door open, but he was not quick enough. Something hard hit him on the head and everything went black.


	25. Chapter 25

Illusions 25

"What are you waiting for? Just do him in and then we are off." Guy heard voices from far away and when he opened his eyes, he was lying in the tavern's court. Groaning, he touched the back of his head and tried to sit up, but felt the sharp blade of a knife at his throat and looked into the sneering face of one of the soldiers. "Not so hasty," said the man and another one added. "I'd like some fun at first. Only cutting his throat….nah… We could take him to the smithy. He won't so schtum when he feels the sledge hammer on his fingers…." He laughed like a billy goat. "…or on his kneecap."

Guy glanced into the men's hostile faces. This was the end; he had no chance whatsoever. Four, five men, not including the burly chap Guy had dashed to the ground and the soldier who was still clutching his bloody shoulder. They would bury him somewhere in the thicket and even if someone asked whether they had seen the Englishman they would deny it; the Bishop would think he had left without permission and only Rhobert would suspect something, but by then he would be dead.

Before he had time to react, two men yanked him to his feet and bound his hands behind his back. "You're right," one of them said, pushing Guy forward. "Let's have some fun first."

"You've got only sawdust between your ears," Guy suddenly heard the cold voice of Morgan ap Owain. "We won't kill him…." He was pulled around and looked into the glacial eyes of the young captain.

A murmur arose. "Why are you spoiling the party?"

"Oh, he _will_ die, but we'll get a reward. Blunderheads! Haven't you seen how the Englishman fought? This is not a man used to the pen but to a sword; this is not a Bishop's scribe; he is an English spy!" _An English spy_… The men fell silent. „Bind him carefully and then we'll bring him to the Lord Rhys!" Morgan added and sneered at Guy.

Guy's legs were bound to so that he was only able to make little steps and then he was pushed forward. He laughed aloud; even if he told the truth, nobody would believe him and he would be executed as an alleged spy of the English King. The soldiers looked at each other, shaking their heads. _Had the bloke gone mad?_

Rhys ap Gryfudd was looking down at the man who was kneeling before his throne. "Up with him," he said with deceiving calm. "I want to see his face." A soldier dragged him to his feet and Guy felt the monarch's glance. Their eyes met and Guy knew at once that this man could not be underestimated. He was an old man, well above sixty, but his grey eyes were sharp. "Off with his tunic!" The guard hurried to obey Lord Rhys' order and ripped the garment from Guy's upper body. Rhys' mien was grim. „I hope you won't waste my time and tell me you are a scribe. I know a warrior's body when I see it…. You will hang from the highest pinnacle of my castle but you will talk at first, believe me. What does Richard want to know?"

Guy's lips curled in the hint of a smile while his eyes got an absentminded gaze, but he remained silent and Rhys strained his eyes. What was it with this man? Something was wrong, but he would find out. The Englishman had come with Bishop Cadarn; perhaps _he_ knew something.

Lord Rhys addressed Morgan. "Wake the Bishop up!" A little smile lit his eyes. It would be amusing to see how the fat hypocrite squirmed with embarrassment.

While the captain disappeared to fetch the Bishop, Lord Rhys mustered his captive. This was not the first spy King Richard had sent, but obviously not the most apt. Most of the other spies had disguised themselves as pedlars; some of them had even been men of Welsh ancestry – traitors! They had died most painfully. As Morgan had told him, this one spoke Welsh only brokenly and had not tried to make friends with anyone. Instead he had mostly roamed around the woods. What had he wanted to spy out? It was obvious that the Englishman was not what he had pretended to be. Not only was he a warrior; his stance showed that he was no common man…

Your Excellency?...."

Bisphop Cadran blinked. Who dared to disturb him in the middle of the night? Brother Padrig was standing in the door. Despite the dim light of the candle, Cadarn saw at once that something dreadful must have happened. The little monk was trembling and harrumphed. "Your Excellency, the…the Englishman…" His voice cracked and he could only croak. "He…. a spy….Lord Rhys…."

„A spy…? Cadarn repeated, stuttering. With trembling hands he removed the soft featherbed. "A spy? This cannot be…" He fell silent. _Of course_ this man could be a spy; from the beginning he had had a bad feeling about the Englishman and now…. A cold shiver ran down his back. What if they held _him_ responsible? It was not _his_ fault; it had only been due to Father Rhobert's appeal… "I'm coming." Although he had barely understood Brother Padrig's words, he knew that he had to appear before Lord Rhys at once.

A washbowl was standing on a little chest of drawers in his chamber and Cadarn washed hastily. There was no time to choose another garment and so he had to dress in yesterday's habit and slipped into his shoes. Brother Padrig was waiting in the anteroom and then lead him to Lord Rhys.

What should he say? Of course Lord Rhys would understand…. The door to the Great Hall opened. He wiped his sweaty hand at his garment and hurried to approach the throne although his first impulse was to flee. What if the Prince thought _he_ was a spy too?

Rhys a Gruffydd looked disdainfully at the little fat sweaty man who approached him, waddling. He held the priests and monks, who were serving under mostly hard circumstances in remote villages and monasteries, in high regard, but men like Cadarn were a disgrace for the Church and for the country. Not for a minute he believed that the Bishop himself was involved in a conspiracy; he was too dimwitted and too greedy, always concerned about his own safety. "Bishop Cadarn…" he said deliberately. "You know, why I have called you?"

"Yes,...of course…" the little man stammered, completely intimidated and forgetting the dignity as a Bishop of the Church he liked to show at other times as a rule. "Well… I… I cannot tell you anything. It was Father Rhobert,….yes, Rhobert ap Morthwyl, who told me that this man was his friend. I remember exactly: He stated explicitly that the Englishman was his friend and that he had saved his life and that he would read the Bible to me for charity's sake and I'd never suspected that…."

"Rhobert ap Morthwyl?"

Bishop Cadarn nodded, relieved. "Shall I have him called, my Lord?"

"Yes, send a messenger at once." Rhys ap Gruffydd watched the Bishop's retreating figure. He knew the Abbot and held him in high regard. Besides he was Griffin ap Morthwyl's brother and Griffin was one of his most faithful subjects. Had Rhobert been deceived? A few days hence and he would know.

Guy had stood there without moving and had stared into space, but he became alert when the Bishop mentioned Rhobert's name. _What if the Prince thought Rhobert a spy too? What if he didn't even ask?…Cling together, swing together? No,_ _Rhobert, I will not take the risk that you must pay for something that is not your fault. They will hang me anyway. I have to do something…_

"My Lord, there is no need to call the Abbot. I have fed him some sappy storyline he believed. You were right; King Richard has sent me."

Lord Rhys had watched Guy from the corner of the eye and had noticed his facial expression. Why had the man confessed so sudden? Perpaps to avoid the interrogation? If so, he had deluded himself. „Morgan, take him away. It's too late today, but tomorrow morning you will make him talk. Be careful, It is no use if he dies off too soon. I have to know what the English King is planning. You were watchful and I will reward you. Well done, Morgan!"

Morgan ap Owain bowed deeply. He could barely conceal the triumph in his eyes; He had only been a captain up to know, but now he was a made man, a famous man.

Once again in a dungeon and this time in a foreign land and without any hope of rescue. He had no idea what he should tell them about any plans of King Richard's to attack Wales. He only hoped that it would be over soon, that the men would make a mistake and kill him earlier than intended.

Morgan bowed before Lord Rhys. He was not content; so far they had handled the Englishman with kid gloves. He had been whipped and had lost some fingernails, but this had been all and the spy had not talked – yet. He would; this was Morgan certain of. There was no prisoner who could not been broken and Morgan looked forward to it. A pity that Lord Rhys wanted to wait until Rhobert ap Morthwyl's arrival. But Morgan had made an interesting discovery. In the Englishman's trousers they had found a letter, written in English. He didn't understand this language, but he knew that his Prince did. Morgan snorted; how dumb of this spy to bring a letter with him!

Lord Rhys read the letter for a third time. This was not what he had expected, not a letter with instructions or anything similar. Who were these Anne and Osgood of Gringstow and what did they mean with the mentioning of _hatred towards the King_? The letter must have been very important for the Englishman; obviously it had been read numerous times. Perhaps the Abbot could explain what it meant. He should arrive any day.


	26. Chapter 26

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and and a hug to** **xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx for reading over my story and correcting mistakes. **

Illusions 26

Rhobert edged his donkey on. He would not beat old Sam and the animal certainly would not understand if he talked to him about the urgency of the matter. Yes, in the bible there had been a talking donkey …

Bishop Cadarn's letter calling him to the royal Court had been accusatory and had not boded well,with talk of severe punishment, but Rhobert had not even paid attention: Guy was accused of being a spy? What nonsense! How long would his friend stand torture? Rhobert didn't doubt for a minute that Lord Rhys would _interrogate_ him with all possible means risking his untimely death. What if he was too late andn could not save Guy?

It was nearly midnight on the third day when Rhobert reached the castle. He was exhausted, hungry and dirty, but yet he didn't care. "Lord Rhys has sent for me. Take me to him at once!" he called out to the guard at the gate. The man looked at him incredulously. _This is the monk, who's brought the spy to the Court. I wouldn't be that keen on meeting Lord Rhys, if I were in his shoes._ He shrugged and lead the young Abbot towards the Prince's chambers since he had got the order to bring Rhobert ap Morthwyl as soon as he arrived, regardless the time of day or night.

It was not much later when the door was opened and Rhobert was allowed to enter. He bowed hastily. "My Lord," he said without ceremony. "A horrible mistake has been made. Guy is no spy and I vouch for him."

Lord Rhys looked at the young dishevelled Abbot, who was standing in front of him without any sign of fear. Griffin had once told him, rather embarrassed, that his brother had entered a convent because he could not stand the sight of blood. But when his gaze scrutinized the huge man he knew at once that Rhobert had another kind of bravery. He smiled at the monk. "Sit down, Father Rhobert," he said kindly and ordered his servant to bring something to eat and drink for his guest; then he addressed Rhobert again.

"This is a serious matter, Father Rhobert. Your…friend… has confessed. Could you give me a reason why he should do this, if it were not true? He knew he was found out and even told me before the interrogation." Lord Rhys paused. "He said that he had deceived you and had told you a sappy story."

Rhobert stared at his ruler. This didn't make sense; why should Guy admit being a spy, if…?" _But….yes, it did make sense_. "What was the exact moment my friend confessed?" he asked. "Was it when he heard that you would send for me?"

It didn't slip Rhys' attention how the young man emphasized the word my friend. This was more than just an acquaintance. He became curious. „What did he tell you?"

"In short, my lord?... He tried to kill the English King and was banished."

Rhys laughed out loud. "Banished? Someone who tries to kill his sovereign hangs. What a cock and bull story! It's definitely a blessing that you didn't become a warrior but a monk."

_Of course you don't believe this and who would_? Guy knew this," Rhobert replied. "But tell me, who would make up such a story?"

Rhys looked at Rhobert, musing. "Go on."

"I found Guy by the wayside near the border. I saw at once that he had been beaten and was near death. He burned with fever and some days went by until we knew for sure that he would live. We nursed him at our monastery and he became my friend. I know and I love him as a brother and I… I would never betray his confidence and never tell anybody the things he told me, although it was not under the seal of confession. It's only now that his life is at stake…"

Rhobert was well aware that Lord Rhys was listening closely. _Oh God, help me to convince him, help that Guy may live!_

He was reluctant to tell the Prince of things Guy had entrusted to him as a friend and he omitted many personal things the ruler didn't need to know; he didn't tell him that Guy was a natural son of Henry II, but the older man's mien told him that he was inclined to believe Rhobert. "Did you find the letter that Guy always carries with him" Rhobert asked and Lord Rhys fetched the writ.

"I wondered," he said. "It didn't seem to make sense." He looked at Rhobert pensively. "He knew that I would not, could not believe him and wanted to save you from an alleged punishment. He must have reckoned that I would be suspicious of your involvement in a plot. He seems to be a true friend."

Lord Rhys rose and beckoned to the guard. "Fetch the prisoner!"

The heavy oaken door squeaked in its hinges. "Get up!" one of the guards shouted at the drowsy man lying on the dirty straw, and a heavy boot hit his ribs. The welts on his back burned and every motion hurt as he rose arduously, but Guy hurried to obey the soldier's order to avoid another kick. What did they want so late at night? He didn't resist when they bound his hands; he was tired, tired to death; he didn't have any strength left and hoped that it would soon be over and he would finally be allowed to sleep forever.

A soldier led on and Guy realised that they didn't take him to the dungeon but instead to Lord Rhys. The guard opened the door and stepped aside.

Rhobert had risen and stared at his friend, shocked. Guy's hair was dirty and the face swollen; the shirt was bloody and torn to shreds, dark and ugly bruises visible. He had known it would be like this, but he was worried when he saw that Guy didn't react at all. He was standing hunched up and staring into space so much so that he had not even noticed Rhobert.

"Guy!" he cried hoarsly. "Guy!" and eventually Guy turned his head slowly towards the young Abbot. Rhobert saw a slight flicker of the eye, but Guy looked away as if he had never seen the young monk.

"Guy," repeated Rhobert lowly but audible. "I wouldn't have given your secret away, but it was the only way to save your life."

"And why should anybody believe such a story?" Guy murmured and then broke off. Why had Rhobert been so foolish to stand by him? But perhaps he had known that his friend would not hesitate to help him. Even if he had to die, Guy was happy to have seen Rhobert for one last time.

Rhys had watched the interaction between the two men and he realised that Rhobert had been right. The Englishman was weakened after the days of torture and he was not a good actor; his facial expression had betrayed him. Rhys came to a decision.

"Unbind him and take care that he gets something to eat and a bed," he ordered a servant, who looked at him with wide eyes, but loosened the bindings at Guy's wrists at once.

Guy stood motionless for a moment and then stared at the Welsh Prince incredulously. Rhys returned the gaze quietly but unsmiling. "Let's say that I'm inclined to believe Father Rhobert. You may go now and we will talk tomorrow."

Rhobert could see that Guy was still confused, and he nodded at him, smiling. Eventually, Guy bowed and followed the waiting servant.

When the door had closed Rhobert breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, my lord," he said. "I knew that he was no spy, but I also knew that his story is far from believable."

"Sit down, Father Rhobert," Rhys said. "Even if you friend has got off for now, it doesn't mean that I'm so careless to believe this without any proof. I have my men in England too and if he is what he claims to be, I will find out. Until then… " He didn't continue.

Rhobert nodded. "…he will be your guest… I have to go back to the monastery soon, but I would ask you permission to keep Guy company till then."

"Permission granted…. But another question… Why, do you think, should I trust this Englishman, even if it turns out that he is not a spy? A man who tried to kill the King…"

"I cannot tell you everything without betraying Guy's confidence. From his point of view he had good reason for this assassination. I cannot condone what he did, and he told me many things that shocked me. But I know he is someone who is loyal and grateful and I believe that you might win a faithful subject, if you convince him to stay in Wales and he is treated with decency.

Rhys' mien showed his approval; Rhobert had expressed at thought he had had himself. "You are not a warrior but a monk, Rhobert; I believe, however, that your extraordinary talents as a strategist are rather wasted in your monastery. But now, I'm afraid, you'll have to fight something out with your Bishop." His eyes glittered, amused, and Rhobert rose. He knew that he was dismissed, bowed and left the Great Hall.

Now that the audience with the Prince was over and his goal to save his friend had been achieved, Rhobert felt the exhaustion of the long journey. He would have like to postpone the inevitable meeting with his superior, but this was impossible. In his letter Cadarn had made clear that he wanted to see him immediately at his arrival. In seeing Lord Rhys at first, he had antagonized him even more.

"Please announce me to his Excellency," he asked the Bishop's little secretary. A few minutes later the thin monk appeared again and told Rhobert to sit down and wait. It was nearly an hour later that he was allowed to enter the Bishop's chambers. The young Abbot knew that Cadarn had shown his displeasure with this long wait; he was surprised, however, to see that the Bishop received him in full regalia. Rhobert was even more tired by now, but there was no chair for him to sit down. Cadarn's piggy little eyes glittered as he held out his hand with the ring for Rhobert to kiss. Rhobert knelt down briefly and then stood before the Bishop, waiting.

"In bringing this spy to the Prince's Court, you have discredited the Church. I don't even know whether it will be possible to make up for the damage you have done. Although your behaviour towards your superiors has been lamentable before, I have been indulgent, too indulgent as I may say now. The Church needs servants she can rely on, servants who enhance the prestige and earn the respect of the people. You are not one of them. I had no idea that a simple favour I wanted to do to your father would be detrimental to the standing of the Church. As of today, I release you from your oath towards the Church."

Rhobert was petrified. He had expected punishment, even that the Bishop would dismiss him as an Abbot and would make him a common monk, but he had not expected expulsion. "Your Excellency, perhaps I could explain…"

"You may save your breath!" the Bishop interrupted. "Those who sow the wind will reap the whirlwind. Your actions caused a disaster and I am determined to save the Church from further harm."

Rhobert understood. The Bishop washed his hands of it like Pontius Pilate and Rhobert's explanation that Guy was not a spy, was useless.

Cadarn held out his hand and the young man knew what he wanted. He took his keys from the pocket in his robe; his hands were trembling when he fiddled with the cross around his neck and handed it to the Bishop. Then he turned around and left the room.

*****************************************************************************************************

I don't know whether it is possible for a Bishop to release a monk from his oath. But perhaps some of you know the film "A Nun's Story" with Audrey Hepburn. She wanted to leave the convent and wrote to the Bishop.


	27. Chapter 27

Illusions 27

The Bishop wiped the sweat from his brow; this had been easier than he had thought. If Rhobert was punished for having brought this spy to the Prince's court, Lord Rhys would know by now that he, Bishop Cadarn, bore no responsibility and would, of course, approve of this step. With these comforting thoughts he removed his stole and reached for the jar of wine standing on his table. This was going to be a good evening.

Rhobert was still dazed when he walked through the corridors. He had not felt a vocation when he had decided to enter a convent, but he had liked being a monk. What should he do now? He was not cut out to be a soldier and, although he knew that his brother Griffin would support him, he would be useless…. Griffin… of course, he was still at Dinefwr. Rhobert stepped into the courtyard and stopped a guard walking by. "Take me to my brother." The young Abbot was well known and the soldier didn't ask any questions.

Griffin had already been asleep, but he rose at once when he learned that his brother had come. "Sit down," he said and pulled out a chair. He poured wine from a jar on the table and pushed it over to Rhobert, eying him concernedly. "I don't believe that Lord Rhys will blame you for bringing the Englishman here. Thanks to Morgan nothing has happened." He grimaced. „…although I hat his guts…You've been too gullible, that's it."

Rhobert shook his head and then said. "No, Griffin, that's not it. Guy is not a spy and I could persuade Lord Rhys of this."

"The Englishman is innocent?...Then I don't understand…."

"I've been to the Bishop, Griffin and he has released me from my oath… I'm no longer a monk…. I had expected punishment, but not this," he said in a flat voice.

His brother stared at him. "I'm not surprised that Cadarn wanted to get rid of you as soon as possible….What will you do now?" he asked after a while.

"I don't know, Griffin." Rhobert smiled bleakly. "But I'm still glad that I could save Guy's life."

Yeah, well, your English friend; are you sure that he's worth it?"

"Even if he were not, it was the truth and I could not have done otherwise." Rhobert replied.

"You might not want to hear it now, but I'm glad that you have left the convent. You were not meant to be a monk." Then he grinned. "Do you know how many women will pursue you now that you have shed your clerical habit? And Morared will at once try to pair you off with one of her numerous sisters."

He punched him amicably and Rhobert flushed but didn't say anything. He liked his sister in law. She was a pretty woman, who didn't look having born five children already. Inwardly, he groaned; yes, she would try to hook him up with one of her younger sisters. Not that he had not looked after a beautiful woman once in a while, but like in his youth, none of them would be interested in a man who didn't like to handle a sword. He sighed; this would be the least of his problems.

"Well, we'll have to get you some clothing, I suppose. For the time being you may have some of mine, although it will be a tad short. Tomorrow I'll give orders to have something made for you… Have you eaten?"

Stop acting like a mother hen," Rhobert laughed, who had calmed down, but he remained seated and reached for the cup Griffin had put in front of him. His brother ordered a servant to bring some bread and cold meat and they sat together for a short while. Rhobert was glad that his brother was able to be silent and for the present the wine was warming him. Griffin had a pallet made for his brother, but it was not until dawn that Rhobert fell asleep.

"I _must_ speak to Lord Rhys; it is a matter of urgency," Bishop Cadarn said to the guard standing in front of the Prince's chambers.

What did the Bishop want so early in the morning? Usually he didn't rise before noon. Rhys sighed and told the guard to let the Bishop in.

Cadarn bowed. "My Lord," he said hastily. "I was so upset yesterday to express my dismay about this disastrous incident. " He stood there, waiting, but Lord Rhys didn't bid him to sit down. Of course this was also due to Father Rhobert's shocking misdemeanour's. "Surely you know by now that it was not my fault that this spy was brought here, but that Father Rhobert recommended him to me, that he even vouched for him. I had doubts from the beginning that this man was fit for serving the Holy Church… It was pure Christian love that induced me to…" He broke off when he saw that the Prince's mien had not brightened at all, rather the contrary.

"What is it that you wanted to tell me?" Cadarn nearly flinched. How rude the ruler was. „Of course, my Lord," he continued. "I have come to tell you that I have released Father Rhobert from his oath. His actions have cast a damning light on the Church and he will leave the monastery at once."

Lord Rhys nodded. "I just thought so. I will talk to Rhobert ap Morthwyl as soon as possible. Maybe you are interested to hear that the Englishman has been released from the dungeon and that he will be my guest for the time being."

"Released…. As a guest?" Cadarn echoed. His hasty retreat was nearly a flight. Had the Prince's first words satisfied him, he had the uneasy feeling by now that he had made a grave mistake.

The young servant opened the door carefully. She had been told to bring something to eat and fresh water into the chamber and that it was for the Englishman Lord Rhys had released. It turned out to be true. The man was still lying on the bed and he was fast asleep. She eyed him suspiciously; apparently he was not a spy after all, but he was an Englishman and you couldn't be too careful. Oooh! He really needed that water to wash. And later she was supposed to prepare a bath for him and even bring fresh clothing. Of course she had to obey these orders, but Siwan shook her head disapprovingly. Then she put down the bowl and fetched bread, cheese, ham and some apples and ale.

Not much later Guy awoke. It hadn't been a dream after all. Lord Rhys had set him free, at least let him out of the dungeons. He looked at his hands; his fingernails would need a while to grow out and the wounds on his back hurt, but this was not important. He was alive and somehow he was glad to be. Guy washed and tried to clean the bruises on his back, which was barely possible. His stomach growled… he had to eat something…. There, on the table…

At that moment the door opened and two male servants carried a wooden tub into the chamber and laid some clothing on a chest in the corner. Then they left the room without a word and without looking at Guy.

"A bath for this Englishman!" one of them puffed angrily. "What the heck… Even if he is not a spy, …string him up, I say…Shall stay in England…What happened anyway?" he asked the guard in front of Guy's chamber. The man shrugged. "Nobody's telling me a thing. I'll take him to Lord Rhys later on; that's all I know. I have to fetch the Abbot as well, but I head he's not an Abbot any more."

Guy stretched out in the warm water… just a few minutes longer… The water began to turn cold when he stepped out of the tub. He dressed and shortly after a guard opened the door. Guy didn't react. He had known that the Prince was not a fool and that he would not take the risk to leave him unguarded. The soldier scowled at Guy. "Are you ready? I'll take you to his His Highness."

Guy nodded and followed the guard. What was the Prince aiming to achieve with the release? According to his experience rulers were rarely philanthropists and didn't ask whether someone was innocent or not. Although Guy knew that he could not exactly called be an innocent. He was not a spy, but he had many sins to atone for.

The first time he had stood before Lord Rhys Guy had known that this man was different from King Richard. He was a great warrior, but Richard loved to play to the gallery, his garments and the rings on his fingers being proof of his vanity. Rhys on the other hand was rather simply dressed, his whole behaviour different, he radiated the aura of a man who lived with his sword. His face was gaunt and his formerly black hair was mostly grey now, but nothing indicated that he had gone soft. His gaze was like granite and Guy knew at once that this was not a man who talked much. Guy didn't know anything about him besides the famous stories about his rebellion against King Richard. If his garments and the furnishing of the Great Hall were an indication, he didn't care for luxuries.

The Prince beckoned Guy to sit down. "You are probably wondering why I chose to believe you and let you live." His lips curled in a slight smile. "Time will tell. If your story turns out to be true, you will stay at my Court. Rhobert ap Morthwyl vouched for you."

Guy understood all too well that Lord Rhys didn't leave him the option to leave Wales and he noticed the veiled threat concerning Rhobert. When the audience with the Prince was over, he would immediately see his friend.

At this very moment the door opened and a guard entered, announcing Rhobert ap Morthwyl. When he stepped aside, Rhobert entered and bowed. His friend looked bleary-eyed and…._Rhobert without his monk's habit?_ Guy paled when he realised _how_ Rhobert had paid for bringing the alleged spy to Bishop Cadarn.

"Sit down, Rhobert," Lord Rhys said kindly; then his mien hardened and he continued. "Bishop Cadarn was here early in the morning and told me that he was not willing to tolerate you any longer. He could barely wait to get rid of you. So you will be able to keep your friend company much longer than you planned. " He eyed the young man approvingly. „I need men like you. You will stay at the court and take service with me."

Rhobert's eyes widened. "My Lord, " he said eventually. "I'm grateful for your trust… However…."

Rhys smiled. "Your brother told me about your …handicap. Handling a sword is good, but there are other weapons as a sharp mind and loyalty. You will stay."


	28. Chapter 28

**Thank you to everybody who reviewed. That's so nice!**

Illusions 28

The Prince rose and Guy and Rhobert knew they were dismissed. They bowed and left the Great Hall.

Rhobert led Guy into his brother's chambers. Griffin had his brother's green eyes, albeit darker hair and was noticeably shorter. He looked at Guy sceptically, then nodded, but did not extend his hand. While he noted with relief that Rhobert had gotten a grip on himself, Griffin was not prepared for what his brother was about to tell him. He was grateful for Rhobert's presence, yet uncertain about this Englishman Rhobert called his friend. He did not quite know what to make of him.

Morgan was cursing away. It could not be true what he had just heard! A guard had said that Lord Rhys had set the Englishman free. According to Rhobert ap Morthwyl, the man was not a spy, and apparently Lord Rhys had believed that. And what about the reward the prince had promised him? Morgan could already picture his companions' sneering faces. He had let them carry on and have their fun with the Englishman and then cut his throat. One more or less of this riffraff did not matter. If one of Rhys's sons, Gruffydd or Maelgwyn, were in power, something like this would never have happened. Lord Rhys was getting rich and obviously soft. If things went on like that, Wales would be easy prey for the English.

Morosely, Morgan emptied another cup of wine. "You were supposed to see Lord Rhys", he heard a voice behind him say. Hastily, he got up and stopped to rinse his mouth with water. Lord Rhys did not like his soldiers drinking so early.

Surprised, Rhys looked at the young captain and frowned. The man had obviously been drinking. So far there had been no complaints about Morgan ap Owain and his watchfulness justified a reward even though the Englishman was apparently no spy for King Richard after all.

More coolly than intended he greeted the soldier. "I had promised you a reward, Morgan, and I will keep my word. You know that Amhar was severely wounded at the last attack by the English. He will retain a stiff leg and I will need a new captain for the guard. You earned that through your vigilance. "

Morgan bowed. "I thank you for the honour, my Lord. "

Rhys's eyes followed the leaving captain thoughtfully. Despite his thanks he had felt the man's disappointment. Had he made a mistake in alienating him a post of such great responsibility? Then he pushed the thought aside; maybe he had been mistaken.

_Captain of the Guard, ha!_ Inside, Morgan was seething. It was a highly respected position – which brought no money. _What a reward!_ But he had hardly been in a position to tell the prince. If this abbot hadn't shown up, the Englishman would have been hanged as a traitor and everyone would be uttering the name 'Morgan ap Owain' with deference. But now… Apart from his good looks, the sinewy build, the dark blond curls and dark green eyes, he had inherited nothing from his father, which admittedly amounted to many passionate nights in different beds, but nothing more.

Morgan's mood did not pick up when he heard that Rhobert ap Morthwyl would enter into the King's service, a man who, although a giant, had wasted his time hiding in a monastery, reading. It was like he had thought for some time: the prince was becoming senile. What was the former abbot supposed to do? Read to him? But then his face brightened. Gruffydd would appreciate being kept up to date as far as his father was concerned.

The sisters had welcomed them warmly for the most part and Marian was feeling bad, thinking of how cold she had been in the first few weeks. Still, she had remained isolated in a way. The majority of the nuns were the daughters of simple peasants and Marian felt their reserve towards the noblewoman from the King's court. The curiosity was great; what might this woman have done to be sent to a convent on the Welsh border?

Marian took several walks in the surrounding area, including a small village close to the convent, but the people there remained monosyllabic; they obviously mistrusted her.

Mother Catharine had made a big effort to win her confidence but Marian could not bring herself to confide in anybody. After all, what could she say? That she had fallen in love with the man to be hanged for attempted regicide? That she considered her former fiancé, the famous Robin of Locksley, superficial and narcissistic? Thus, she remained alone.

The royal vanity and wish for revenge did in fact, when she thought about it, guarantee that she would not have to stay in the convent forever. He would want to humiliate her and see if the time with the sisters would make her biddable. When he decided to send for her, she would be easy prey to King Richard. This time he wouldn't wait but take what he wanted and show her who was stronger. There was nobody to take her side; Robin wouldn't dare oppose the King.

This prison didn't have any insurmountable doors or bars; no one would restrain her if she left the convent, but where would she go? If she didn't want to spend the rest of her life a maid, she would have to see that she didn't leave in a destitute state. She owned neither silver nor gold, only her jewellery and valuable scarves and silk. Perhaps… Sometimes merchants drove by; she would not get much for it but the first thing she would sell was a green silk veil Robin had given to her.

Dylan was whistling joyfully. This was the best deal he had ever made in his life; never before had he seen such a piece of fine silk. He would get a good price for it at the court of the Welsh prince, which would enable him to buy more goods. He had already paid more than he had intended – who would have thought that such a fine lady knew how to bargain – but at least he had the prospect of a lot more treasures. Why slaughter the cow one could milk? He grinned; the young woman could hardly be called a cow. She had dark, slightly curly hair, maybe a little too slim. If she hadn't looked so sad and pale, she would have been quite beautiful. The villagers had called her a noblewoman from King Richard's court. Dylan wondered what she could have done to be sent to this convent. He wrapped the silk carefully, mounted his cart and continued his way to Dinefwr.

Many of the fine fabrics and pieces of jewellery that had once filled her chests had been transferred to the merchant who had come to stop here regularly now. Naturally, she was receiving but a small part of what the items were worth, but what was she supposed to do? Still, the man had noticed that she wouldn't part with her treasures for easily.

It was not a whole lot of money, even if she sold all of her jewellery, but it would be sufficient for an independent, albeit simple life. If she stayed here, she would fall prey to the King. She did not want to end up a prostitute; Guy's remark still stung.

During the day she managed to suppress her thoughts of Guy, but at night she lay awake frequently, picturing his face, sometimes gentle, sometimes furious and full of hatred and sometimes…dead. Very likely he was indeed no longer alive. Only a few Englishmen found their way to Wales; the hatred of everything English was pervasive, and maybe he had been beaten to death. She had often asked travelling merchants and monks on their way to Wales even though she didn't know what she expected. Her heart had clenched every time she had asked if a knight had been found dead on the border or if anybody had been imprisoned. She knew how unlikely it was for somebody to have heard of Guy, and still – a small flicker of hope remained. But time passed and everybody she asked shook their head.

Whenever she thought of Robin it was with bitterness. She had told him not to bother writing to her, but it had been in a fit of rage; deep down she had hoped he would write anyway. Had he forgotten her so quickly? Was the King the only one important? Too late she had noticed that Robin was like a little boy feeding on a father's attention.

It was no use brooding about it. A few more months until she had sold everything and then she would start a new life – alone.


	29. Chapter 29

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. It was quite unexpected and I was overwhelmed. *bowing* All of you know that this story was originally written in German and that I tried to translate them The last few chapters, however, have**** been translated by my daughter. Thank you so much, my dear!**

**It will be a while until the next chapter, but I would never abandon a story. **

Illusions 29

Guy knew he was still a prisoner even though his prison walls were now those of the fortress and he was being treated in a polite manner. Still, he felt he could breathe more freely now. They had given him a comfortable room and his meals were like he remembered them from before.

There were times when he dined at Lord Rhys's table. Guy did not cherish the illusion that the prince actually wanted to talk to him. Often he felt the prince's cool grey eyes upon him and even though he neither could nor wanted to compare the prince to Sheriff Vaysey in the slightest, that did not mean that he intended to disclose his personal intentions to him. Thus, Guy remained polite but reserved. Weeks later when Lord Rhys told him casually that the scandal at the English court had been replaced by different news, Guy's face had remained stony even though he knew exactly what this meant.

He still wasn't free to go and yet everything had changed. Guy knew that, as an Englishman, he was still under close watch at the Welsh prince's court but when rumours spread of why he had been banned and on what grounds he had tried to kill the horrible king, several of the looks thrown at him changed. Guy realised that Lord Rhys had not permitted the rumours to spread for philanthropic reasons but because he knew it would weaken his own position if he allowed an ill-respected man to stay at his court.

Guy had never been one to accept a simple lifestyle, and it had been hard for him to cope with the thought of having to lead his life a simple man. Back then, in Nottingham, he had had a brilliant future ahead of him as the future Earl of Huntington and Marian as his wife. Now all that had shattered like glass. However, he had realized that this would have been a fragile possession anyway. Marian had not loved him, and had she actually married him, it would have been to spy on him, and in spite of his title he would still have dependent on the Sheriff, whom he had despised.

Guy had had a lot of time to think, and even though he supposed that Rhobert thought him a better person than he was there were things he did regret. It was too late however, he could not change his past, nor did he have any influence on what the future would bring. Still, he knew that, if he continued to be loyal to the prince, he was given a chance at this court he would never have again.

He wouldn't ever sell his soul again, but he would make use of this chance.

Rhys ap Gruffydd was not entirely sure what he should do with this Englishman. The man owed him his life, and Rhys trusted Rhobert's belief that he would be grateful.

He also knew that there was no alternative for Guy. If he stayed at the Welsh court, he would get the chance to prove himself as a soldier. Should he choose to leave, he could do so only to a foreign country.

Yes, he would give him weapons and the chance to prove his loyalty.

"Have the Englishman come to me", he ordered one of his servants, who duly left to look for Guy. He found him with Robert. So far, there had not been a lot for Guy to do, so the two of them had taken up their Welsh lessons again, even though Rhobert laughingly conceded that his friend still showed little talent for this language.

Guy followed the servant while Rhobert looked for his brother. Griffin would be leaving Dinefwr in a few days.

Guy bowed deeply, finding himself under Rhys's close scrutiny. "I have reached a decision as to your future. You may go, but that would mean your leaving the country entirely. Or you may choose to stay – but only in my services." He looked at Guy, who was standing before him both expectantly and silently, but Guy had not expected anything different. "I assume you have not held a sword for quite some time; you will therefore have the opportunity to practice your skills again. Follow the guard; you will receive a sword and partake in the practice fights. After that we shall see if there are other tasks suitable for you."

Guy bowed again. „I thank you, my Lord, and will serve you loyally, but I won't and can't set foot on English soil ever again."

Musing, Rhys's eyes trailed after Guy. He had made it clear that he would not assist in a fight against England, but that he would be loyal. If he proved to be reliable, he could use him in the fights against the English, who kept showing up on the border. These fights would show whose side he was on, and may God have mercy on him if he turned out to be a traitor. On the other hand, should he prove to be useful…

The prince knew he had to be careful for his own position was not as strong as it used to be. He had aged, and even though most of his men were loyal to him, there were others thinking it was time to step aside and let his sons take his place.

_A sword… he would be allowed to carry a weapon again. _Still numb, Guy followed the young guard, who handed him a sword and then returned to his post. Guy felt the hilt in his hand, a shiver ran down his spine and his fingers glided down the blade in something close to a caress. It was a little rusty, and jagged in one place, but nonetheless a sword; he would sharpen it himself, and even though he was out of practice, that would change soon.

"I'm glad to see you again before I leave!" Griffin grinned. "Still, it is time to get myself home." In the past few weeks, Griffin had led a group of soldiers intended to get the spreading number of highwaymen under control.

But Rhobert knew that his brother wanted and would go home tomorrow. His youngest son was only a few months old, and Rhobert had seen precious few men who were as much in love with their wives after eight years as his brother. "Maybe Morared will be mollified by what I will surprise her with." He withdrew a green silk scarf from his bag and continued after a look at Rhobert's blank face. "I know you know nothing about silk – and neither do I – but after I had heard Lady Efa yell it was the best silk she had ever seen, I had to have it. Morared will look infinitely better in it." Rhobert smiled; Morared could probably wear sackcloth and still be the most beautiful woman on earth to his brother. Griffin folded the shiny cloth again. „The merchant also offered a beautiful necklace and a ring; allegedly from a young woman sent or banished or whatever to the abbey in Middletown by the King. What a blabber; he wanted to raise his price, that's all!

Rhobert had only half-listened to his brother; he was looking out of the window and said nothing. Griffin scrutinized Rhobert; he had managed to get himself under control after Bishop Cadarn had released him from his vows, but now it was obvious that he was not happy. Not even his books, which had arrived meanwhile, had been able to console him. "If you hadn't met this Englishman, you'd still be in the monastery." Griffin grumbled.

"If I hadn't met Guy, I'd probably be dead." his brother reminded him. "I could not have defended myself against the highwaymen.

"Hmhm," Griffin grumbled, then replied: "What will _you_ do here? It seems your friend has already found an occupation." His gaze had followed Rhobert's and stopped at Guy crossing the yard with a sword in his hand.

Rhobert's shoulders stiffened. "Lord Rhys will find a task for me; why else would he wish to keep me here? Do me a favour, Griffin. Send for my daggers and the chain mail. They are still in the chest in my old room, aren't they?"

"I don't assume you'd want to use them yourself, Rhobert, and I am not sure it is such a good idea what you intend to do. You may consider the Englishman your friend, but this is too much. He is still a stranger, and yet you want to give him these treasures. I am aware that they are yours, but I'm telling you: think about it."

"Griffin, none of you needs those things, and I assume no one wants them either; otherwise, you'd have asked me a long time ago. And believe me, I know what I'm doing."

"Whenever you've taken something into your head, you've pursued it, Rhobert; your outward calm manner is pretty misleading", Griffin grumbled. "I will send for your things.

The brothers embraced and Rhobert went back. He had told his brother he was confident that Lord Rhys would have a task for him, yet in fact he was not positive there was a place for him here. He would not take up a sword. But when he had reached his chambers, a servant was waiting for him there, telling him Lord Rhys was expecting him.

Rhobert was surprised to see a boy of about seven years standing next to Lord Rhys. Brown curls framed a fine-featured face with a narrow, straight nose. He was wiry rather than tall and was scrutinizing Rhobert with serious, grey eyes. Rhobert had seen the boy a few times before and knew him to be one of Lord Rhys's younger sons. But why was he here?

"This is Rhobert ap Morthwyl, Bran, and he will be your teacher", Lord Rhys explained. "He will teach you reading, writing, English and much more." The boy did not seem overjoyed by this prospect and glared at Rhobert. "Reading is for girls and monks", he muttered. "And why would I need English?"

"Do you want to rely on girls and monks, Bran?" his father asked. "Also, you should speak the enemy's tongue."

Bran said nothing for a moment, then nodded. "Go now, Bran, I will tell you the rest later." Bran bowed briefly and quickly left the room, glad to get back to his horse.

"I told you already I need men like you, Rhobert. It is not my mere wish to see Bran learn how to read and write that prompted me to entrust him to you. You can mould him and help him to see the word with different eyes. Be his friend." The prince's eyes twinkled. „There is one thing, however, in which I hope you shall not serve as an example: Bran will learn to wield a sword, and it would do you good to practice your fighting skills again… Yes, I know what you're about to say, but do try yourself in a fistfight. Practice with your friend, if you wish. There may be a time when I will make use of you as an emissary."

Rhobert's face had brightened up and Rhys could see how the young mean had already begun to think about the implications of his new position. "Maybe it will stimulate Bran's efforts if you teach one of his sisters in reading and writing as well. The boy's ambitious and he would not like being bested by a girl. I will send him and his sister Gwyneth to you tomorrow."

With these words, he dismissed Rhobert.

Outwardly, Rhys did not betray how worried he was. His son Maelgwyn was estranged to him since he knew that not he but Gruffydd would be the heir to the realm of Deheubarth. Gruffydd, in turn, seemed impatient for his father to die. Sometimes Rhys thought he could die with a lighter heart if he thought his son capable of preserving the realm, but he wasn't. And neither were the younger sons, Hywel and Maredudd, who were nothing but scallywags and wimps.

If only his other sons had a bit more of Bran in them! Rhys sighed. The boy was not even eight years old, and one of his illegitimate sons at that, but looking into his grey eyes, Rhys saw himself many, many years ago.

Bran was a lively boy and interested in everything. He was a good rider and Rhys knew already he would make a fine warrior – if he lived up to this age at all. Not that he was a sickly child – on the contrary – but Rhys had seen several times that Gruffydd was eyeing his younger brother with envy in his eyes. Perhaps Rhys had made a mistake in keeping Bran so close to him; even if he would never be heir to the throne, everyone could see that the boy was close to his heart.

Rhys knew he was too old to protect his son much longer, and now he had chosen a former monk and an Englishman at that for this task.


	30. Chapter 30

**Thank you so much for revising again**, **xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx. Yesterday I sent the chapter to you and today I've got it back.**

Illusions 30

The sound of swords reverberated through the courtyard, the muffled tones of iron meeting the shield, and then shouts, groans as well as laughter. Eventually, the show fight was over and the men put down their weapons. Guy was still breathing heavily but was satisfied with and glad about the physical training. Carefully, his fingers checked the blade for damages – it was still sharp enough. Approvingly, one of the men slapped his shoulder. "I don't stand a chance against you. It's high time that you show me some of your tricks." Guy gazed into Kai's grinning face and laughed, too.

Amazingly, he had gained camaraderie with most of the men when they had realised that the Englishmen, as he had been called at the beginning, was an outstanding fighter. Being about 6"2 and muscular, he was nonetheless deft and quick. Soon the men had realised that Guy didn't boast about his abilities, but was rather reserved; being asked, he shared his tricks and feints willingly, earning the men's respect.

Still some people treated him with reserve, but there was only one knight who could be called an…._enemy_ – Morgan, the new Captain of the Guard. Guy had recognised the young man, who had turned him in to Lord Rhys, and he had overheard several remarks about him. Morgan ap Owain was well known for his temper and his ambition; he was not particularly liked, rather feared. Guy recognised a bit of himself in Morgan… and he didn't like what he saw. People had talked about him the same way…it made him feel sick now.

Guy didn't mind if anyone didn't like him, but at their first show fight he realised that it was much more like that. At the last moment he saw Morgan wielding the sword all out and reacted just in time, raising his shield so that the weapon only hit the wood. His eyes narrowed; this could get dangerous. If he responded in kind and inflicted serious damage on Morgan, his tide could turn quickly; they would call him the Englishman who had hurt the Welsh fellow countryman. Morgan's next attack didn't come unexpected. Guy saw the knight moving forward and stepped aside as quickly as a wink so that the momentum of the blow catapulted him forward and skidding across the ground. Some of the main choked their laughter, while Morgan was struggling to his feet, wiping the sand from his clothing, and left, livid. Curious glances followed him and Guy knew that he was not the only one, who had seen this malicious intent.

From this day on Guy avoided Morgan's presence when possible; it would have been unwise to provide Morgan with a target and he knew he had to be careful. The next day, Morgan had not attended the show fights, although as the Captain of the Guard he had to have an interest to prove his skills as a warrior, gaining the soldiers respect. It seemed that Morgan was rather fight with jugs of ale these days, however this was not Guy's business.

Guy reached for the wooden scoop hanging at the water barrel and took a large swig, filling it a second time and dousing face and hair. Drops of water were glittering in his dark locks and when he grasped his sward and left the courtyard, many a glance followed him, this time from the women and young ladies at the Welsh Court, who liked to be present at the fights, especially at times when the knights fought without a shirt covering the upper part of their body.

It would not only have been looks if Guy had been a wealthy man, but everybody knew that he didn't own anything but the clothes on his body and his sword. Guy was tall and powerfully built yet slender. His cool blue eyes were framed by the most wonderful long lashes, which would have appeared effeminate at another man and his hands… The servants talked more bluntly. „Usually, I don't like carrying the heavy bucks of hot water to a knight's chamber," a starry-eyed young maid said. "But I'll volunteer with him. Just think, when I entered his room this morning, he had stripped completely and was just turning around… Oh my…." She giggled when she saw the other maids' glances and grinned meaningfully. Then she added with a rueful smile. "He didn't even look at me."

It was for the first time in his life that Guy was glad not to be a rich man; of course he had noticed the court ladies' glances and he knew what was behind their restraint. Only for a short moment the old bitterness surfaced until he realised how grateful he could be for the things he had. A few months ago English soldiers had left him half dead at the Welsh border and now here he was at the Court of the Welsh Prince, once again with a weapon in his hands.

Furthermore, he had found a friend he had come to like; they were different as chalk and cheese, but they understood each other even without word. At first Anne and Osgood of Gringstow, now Rhobert…. Anne and Osgood… he would ask the Prince for permission to write a letter.

"Osgood… a pedlar…He…"

Anne halted and Osgood looked at his wife, surprised. She was standing at the door of the stable, looking as pale as a ghost. He leaped up. "What is it with you?" he asked, suddenly alarmed.

Tears welled up in Anne's eyes and she held the letter out to her husband. . "Osgood… a letter….from Guy…"

Osgood froze, and then he stepped forward, reaching for the letter.

_Dear Anne, dear Osgood,_

_I didn't think that I would ever have the opportunity to tell you how much your friendship meant and still means to me, but things have turned out otherwise. When I reached Wales, there was not left much life in me and not much will to live either. I was found by someone, who has become a dear friend. I can't tell you more than that I'm well and that I won't forget you. You were to me what my parents never were. It is not possible for me to say more; I don't want you to get into a conflict._

_Guy_

Osgood took his wife in his arms, stroking her tenderly. For a while they were standing motionless, and then Osgood asked. "The pedlar… is he still there?"

Anne shook her head. "No, he told me that he could not wait for an answer… What do you think is behind all this?"

Osgood pondered this. "If Guy could have told us where he is, he would have done so. We know that he is alive and that he is well, but he is in Wales and things have never been easy with Wales. Every time our King turned their backs a rebellion began. They were never willing to yield and if they were united as they were under Gruffydd ap Llywelyn…."

He stopped and Anne was looking at him expectantly, but he remained mute, caressing her face. "Let's go back to the house. We need some ale, both of us."

Anne read the letter time and again and despite her tears she was happy, happier than she had been for a long time. Osgood himself was pretty sure that Guy was at one of the royal Courts in Wales. Wales and England were not at war with each other, but this probably was merely a matter of time. Osgood clenched his teeth fighting the tears that would well up in his eyes. _Guy, my son…_ Guy was alive and this had to be enough; they would never see him again.

"You cannot be serious!" Thunderstruck Guy stared at the superb chain mail and the weapons Rhobert had spread in front of him. The sword was daedal and had an elaborate pommel, the dagger a chiselled haft.

Rhobert looked at him firmly. "You know that I won't use them ever, Guy, even now that I'm not a monk any more. I will not be able to avoid the fist fights Lord Rhys mentioned, but I don't want these weapons. You are doing me a favour!" He laughed. "It's really selfish on my part. This way you have to protect me whenever I'm in your company… Guy, I want you to have this and it is not that my brothers need them. Each of them has his own chain mail, especially made for him and of course they have their own weapons… It's good for you that the chain mail and the sword were made when I had not reached my full height, although you might have to go to the blacksmith to alter the pommel."

"Rhobert, I…"

"You should know by now that it is rather difficult to sway me, if I am bent on something," Rhobert said jokingly, but his face gave away that he was indeed serious. "I know what you are going to say, but we are friends and our friendship means very much to me." He grimaced. "And this is not only because I will always remain _the baby_ for my brothers and my mother."

Guy drew a deep breath. "If you think I might spare you at the fist fights because you gave these weapons to me, you are in the wrong box," he said gruffly… Thank you, Rhobert," he added, still deeply moved.

"This is what I was afraid of," Rhobert replied and slapped Guy on his shoulder. "And now I'm leaving you alone."

Was it possible to completely forget one's former life? Perhaps because he had wanted to forget, Guy mused. Other than in Nottingham he had most of the other knights' respect. His violent temper, once typical for him, flamed up only rarely. Mostly he was able to let off steam at show fights or at skirmishes with marauders who came to Wales at times.

But now he had an assignment from Lord Rhys that he was anything than happy about. He should train a little boy of about seven years, Bran, the Prince's youngest son. Guy bowed respectfully, but inwardly, he boiled with rage. The other knights would ridicule him, him, a nanny!

But after having talked to Rhobert, he had learned that he was wrong, not only wrong but that this task was indeed an honour, that he had been entrusted with the education of someone, who was very near to the Prince's heart. Guy was speechless and then he left without a word.

Usually, Guy didn't like to deal with children, but Bran was a boy he liked despite himself. He had a natural ability to handle the weapons and was eager to learn anything his new teacher taught him.

Rhobert groaned. If only his new pupil were as eager in his lessons than in the lessons with Guy. Contrary to Lord Rhys's announcement, Bran had appeared at the firs lesson without his sister and had told him that she was ill and had to stay in bed. Probably she's as reluctant to learn to read or write as her brother, Rhobert thought and forgot her. Bran didn't refuse to study, but Rhobert noticed that he was shifting on his chair after only a short time. Well, he would have to show him that learning to read and write was as important as the handling of dagger, axe and sword.

"You think, this is a waste of time, Bran?" he asked the boy.

After a short time the boy nodded.

"Why is that so?"

"If I'm attacked, I have to defend myself," Bran replied solemnly. "But why do I have to read or write? Monks need it and women need it if they keep the books, but I'm going to be a man."

"Rhobert smiled. "And who told you that this is not fitting for a man? One of your brothers?"

Bran nodded.

"Then, Bran, think of the following situation. In some years hence, you are a warrior and the leader of a brigade. You lay siege to a castle and you realise that you don't have enough soldiers. What would you do?"

"I would send a messenger to my father of my brother and tell him that I need more soldiers."

"That's right, Bran, but how would your father know that this is _your_ messenger? He would, if you wrote to him and he identified your handwriting. Kings also have a seal. If a king is asking another to support him, there is always a seal. And sometimes it might be that you don't want some people to know what you have to say. Not everyone is able to read, Bran. And as for the English language – Your father is right, Bran, you have to know your enemies' language."

Bran's mien brightened; this he understood. From now on Rhobert could be sure of his pupil's eagerness. It was a good assignment and Rhobert was looking forward to each lesson.

Rhobert had drawn some maps of England and Wales and had spread them on the table, surveying them, when he heard the squeaking of the door. "Come in, Bran," he said without looking up. But the soft harrumph he heard was not Bran's voice and then Rhobert looked into a delicate face with big brown eyes, glancing at him cordially. Silky, shiny hair fell down to her hips and a green woollen dress gently enveloped a slim but womanly figure. Rhobert swallowed.


	31. Chapter 31

**Dear** **xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx, You're a nice, kind a quick beta. Thank you again. Thanks to everybody who reviewed. I hope I didn't forget to reply to everyone.**

Illusions 31

The words he had meant to say died on Rhobert's lips and the young woman's eyes widened as their gazes met.

"_You_ are…Rhobert ap Morthwyl?" she asked hesitatingly and when Rhobert, still dazed, nodded, she smiled mischievously. "When my father told me that a former Abbot was to teach me, I had another picture in mind… "fat and pompous or withered and tiny…."

At that moment Bran rumbled through the door disturbing the moment. In hindsight, Rhobert didn't even know how he had held class. Time and time again he found himself surveying her delicate hands holding the feather or brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Gwyneth had already been taught by her mother to read; she was an attentive and apt pupil and would soon be able to write. Rhobert was surprised when he noticed that she was even interested in the maps he had drawn, however this was not the reason that he regretted her leaving so soon after the lesson.

He remained with the joyfully babbling Bran, who had gotten a pony and was eager to tell Rhobert all about it. Eventually the former monk succeeded in coaxing the boy to tell him something about his sister Gwyneth. _Yes, she was his half-sister and had rarely been at their father's court. She had mostly been with her mother and now Lord Rhys had summoned to the court in order to marry, but he didn't know…She was a girl but she was alright…But the pony…_

This explained why Rhobert had not seen her before. She had to be seventeen or eighteen. – How come she was not married? When Bran hat left at last, Rhobert had sat on his chair for a while, musing. Her picture didn't fade. Once their gazes had met and she had looked at him, really looked at him, not as a pupil would look at a teacher, but…and she had blushed…._Stop dreaming, Rhobert_, he chastised himself. _Even if she should like you, this will cease soon enough after she compares you to the knights at the Prince's Court. What kind of girl would want a man who refused to fight? And what could he offer her?_

When Guy entered the room, he found his friend in a strange mood, _depressed somehow_, Guy thought… He had rarely seen him like that, well, after his father's death, but not lately. What had happened? After only a few words Guy realised that his friend had fallen head over heals with Gwyneth, the Prince's daughter.

He had seen her several times – a pretty young woman – but had not paid attention, since she was of no interest for him. Now that he knew what Rhobert felt for the woman, Guy would definitely take a closer look. He had never believed in love at first sight and now… Rhobert was a former monk and probably too naïve where women were concerned. He, Guy, would make sure that his friend didn't fall for a scheming little bitch, even if this particular woman was a Prince's daughter.

Some days later he met her in the hallway when he was about to visit his friend. He greeted her politely and eyed her surreptitiously. She was pretty and her voice was dulcet, not shrill or breathless. She frowned as if she didn't know who he was and then smiled kindly, her mien brightening. "You are Rhobert ap Morthwyl's friend, are you not?" she asked.

Guy blinked; he had to admit that he was surprised. Usually most women, whether married or not, tried to flirt with him, but the only thing, which seemed to be important to Gwyneth was that he was Rhobert's friend. Her mien was open and kind, her smile sunny and she was not only pretty but a beauty. Odd that she was not married. Something was wrong, this he was sure of.

"Excuse me," Gwyneth added. "My father has sent for me and I have to hurry." He looked after her how she hurried along the hallway and entered the room where Rhobert used to hold class.

"Just in case you were about to ask," he said without hesitation." I've met _her_ and you were right; she is not only pretty, she is a beauty." He then grimaced. "I know from experience that beauty isn't everything. I have to admit that she wasn't flirting with me - in contrast to most of the females in this castle - and the only thing that seemed to interest her in me was the fact that you are my friend. But it's odd that she is not married." He made a meaningful pause and then continued crudely. "…Or is it because she's a _bastard_?"

Rhobert's eyes blazed and he frowned furiously. "If you were not my friend, I…" he snarled.

"I didn't mean it this way, Rhobert , I…"

Rhobert's jaws were still clenched and he gazed at his friend angrily, but then he relaxed a little. "You're English and perhaps you don't know that being illegitimate is not a severe stain in Wales. Lord Rhys's son Maelgwn could be his successor, although he is not born in holy wedlock. The old customs are stronger than the Church's law. It has other, particular reasons that Maelgwn will not be the next ruler of Deheubarth.

Guy stared at his friend, stunned. _An illegitimate son could have been Lord Rhys's successor?_

"I can tell you _exactly_ why she is not married yet," Rhobert continued, his eyes still angry. "Yes, she has a….a flaw." He literally spat the word. „When she was seven years old, she nearly died at a horrible fire. I now understand why she has avoided her father's court, since people are already beginning to talk...again…This gossip! How can they..?...She was heavily burnt and her legs are scarred. I don't know why, but her mother made Lord Rhys promise not to marry her against her will and so she is allowed to choose her husband. She will get a large dowry and many a knight will court her. If only I were…". He halted, dejected.

Guy was thunderstruck; so it was due to her heavy scars that the girl had not found a husband yet, and yet, she was friendly and kind to everyone. For some moments he stood there, musing; then he spoke again. "Rhobert, perhaps this is your opportunity. I meant what I said; she likes you very much. She didn't look at me until she realised that I am your friend.

"Guy, you are experienced with women and I am not…. Damn! I'm worse than a fifteen year old," Rhobert burst out.

"The only experience I have is with whores and servants, Rhobert," Guy replied crudely. "I loved once and everything she told me turned out to be a pack of lies. She…. I won't pretend that I believe in love any longer; at least I'm done with it. If I were to marry one day, it would be for money and an heir only. It is different for you and obviously she likes you. Although you're only a younger son, Lord Rhys appreciates you and he will prefer you as a husband for her than permitting her to become an old maiden."

Rhobert had flinched when he had heard how Guy talked about marriage, but he understood his friend. And maybe Guy was right, maybe he had a chance. He had noticed how Gwyneth had looked at him when Bran was occupied and he himself had not been able to tear his gaze from her. But he hadn't said anything so far and he knew how difficult this would be for him. It had not been exaggerated when he had said that he was worse than a lad of fifteen. He would make her a gift, something that matched her eyes… The next time the peddlar came to….

Suddenly Rhobert froze. Griffin had told him about the silk cloth for Morared and he had heard the words but had not realised what they had meant… _An English noblewoman, who had displeased the King and who had been had banished to the convent in Newtown_… This couldn't be a coincidence, could it?

Frowning, Guy observed how pale his friend had become, and stepped forward.

Rhobert swallowed. "There is something I have to tell you….something important"


	32. Chapter 32

Illusions 32

_How_ many young English noblewomen who have displeased the King could have been banished to a remote convent at the Welsh border? I don't believe this is a mere coincidence," Rhobert eventually finished his report. He waited, but Guy didn't say anything, his face frozen and his gaze petrified.

"What will you do?" Rhobert asked finally. „Lord Rhys may allow you to ride to Middletown, but you know that you cannot set foot on English soil."

Guy had clenched his fists and had become pale as death, his eyes hard and cold. "I don't want to see her!" he roared. "She may rot in the convent for all I care!" As suddenly as rage had overcome him, he calmed down. "We won't talk about her, Rhobert, I've put this whole thing behind me… And now if you will excuse me, I have to attend to my duties," he said stiffly and left the room without saying goodbye.

Perhaps, no, probably, he should have expected Guy's reaction. But _put behind him_? Certainly not! This was anything than finished. Rhobert had seen the barely concealed grief and knew that if he followed Guy now, he would find him at a passage of arms, trying to distract himself. Guy dealt easily with the men at the Welsh court and also seemed to laugh easily. Everything seemed to be in order, but it was only on the surface and if someone scratched this surface…

Guy didn't seem to doubt that the English noblewoman at the convent was indeed Marian of Knighton, but he would not do anything. What did it mean that she sold her valuable things, silk scarves, brooches, rings… The conclusion was clear; she was in need of money to leave the convent without the King's consent. Even if Guy thought better of his refusal to see Marian in a few weeks, it would be too late; she would have left Middletown by then.

_If Guy doesn't act, I will have to_. As soon as the idea had come, Rhobert banished it. It was Guy's decision whether he wanted to see this woman again or not.

The following night, Rhobert tossed and turned in his bed, not being able to sleep, but even when dawn came, he did not know what to do. His limbs were leaden when he got up and even the icy water a maid had brought him didn't refresh him. He dressed and was staring listlessly at the platter of fruit, bread and the bowl of porridge in front of him, when a knock on the door disturbed his thoughts and a servant entered and bowed. "Lord Rhys wants to see you _immediately_." he said politely.

It was not unusual that the Prince summoned him, but this kind of urgency was. When Rhobert entered the great hall, he saw at once that something important must have happened. If he was right, almost all the noblemen of the Prince's Court were gathered, and at the far corner of the room he saw Guy. The Prince was sitting on his throne, watching the assembly. Rhobert listened to the speculations around him, but nobody seemed to know what had actually happened. Eventually the murmur subsided when Lord Rhys rose from his throne and everyone looked expectantly at their ruler.

"We've always been a nation of warriors, but often we were too weak to fend off the English - they are too numerous. But…" he paused and smiled. "…maybe this can change now that they are without a leader." Lord Rhys's voice boomed through the hall. "I have got a message that the English King will leave his country once again, not for a crusade this time but for warfare in France. The huge ransom the English have paid for the release of their King has weakened them. It remains to be seen whether Prince John is able to gather his followers once more. This is our chance to fortify our borders and to gain back what we have lost. Our first step will be to reconnoitre their weak points. We will gather troops during the next few days. There will be no attacks on English villages, no looting and no unnecessary cruelty. We will take back what we lost but nothing more." His eyes were glittering, and he was standing proud and tall in front of the men he had summoned. ". We. will. free. our. country!"

After only a few moments of silence the men began to shout with glee until the hall reverberated of the deafening cheers. Rhobert remained silent. He loved Wales and he had always hated that his country had to submit to the English, but he also knew what war meant. Even if the king had forbidden looting, war meant death, injuries and pain.

"We will have to prepare carefully," the Prince continued. "We will only be victorious if the element of surprise is on our side. Rumours about an impending attack will cost the victory. No one, I repeat, no one is allowed to talk about the things you have heard. Those who do are traitors and will be hanged as such."

Together with the other men Rhobert headed towards the exit when Lord Rhys called him back. The Prince beckoned him to sit at his side, causing several men to glance at Rhobert in astonishment. The former abbot was a good man but not a person whose opinions would matter in case of a war.

When the door had finally closed, the Prince got right to the point. "I've already told you that I need men like you. The day has come that you will act as my emissary. I know, I know, you won't fight… Despite your youth you are a cautious man. I will free our country from the English, but I also know that it might become a conflagration. Some of my men have lost wives and children in our fight against the English and yearn for vengeance. I won't be able to keep some of the soldiers from disobeying my orders in this matter and this is where you are needed. You will visit the monasteries at the border and tell the abbots about the impending fights.. As a former monk, you will be able to make them understand what I'm asking of them, protecting the monasteries, but also distributing food to those who will suffer and tending the wounded. I won't notify Bishop Cardarn; the only one he cares about is himself. You will know who you can trust; I don't want our plans to come to light before we are prepared for war."

Rhobert's gloomy mien had brightened. With God's help he would be able to save people. He knew that the Prince's plan was proof of cleverness rather than of lenience. If they succeeded in avoiding a big stir, the English might not send a great many soldiers to save some peasant huts or a dilapidated castle. As long as the English villages at the border and the farmland were spared, some of the English might not even care if they belonged to England or to Wales and they would certainly not be interested in the fate of some nobleman and his castle. Had the English King ever cared about them?

Rhobert was well aware that he had a good reputation among the monks and abbots who knew him. They would listen to him in a way they would not listen to a soldier. There were only a few men he didn't consider trustworthy. It would be a long journey; in his mind he saw the map and the roads he had to take, the different locations. He started…maybe…

"My lord," he said softly. "There is something I beg of you."

Rhobert had told her that the lessons were cancelled for now and Gwyneth saw the regret in his green eyes. He would undertake a journey on behalf of the Prince; he had not told her where this journey would lead him, only that he would be away for quite a while.

It was odd; they hadn't even talked much apart from the lessons, but she felt as if she had known him forever. He didn't look at her condescendingly or pitifully – oh, she knew about the gossip – and sometimes she thought she had seen something quiet different in his eyes, when he thought himself unwatched…warmth, desire and more. Meanwhile she knew why he had been released him from his vows; people still talked about the coward Bishop, who had wanted to wash his hands from the young abbot. Rhobert had supported the Englishman's cause who had been incarcerated as a spy. This required courage; Gwyneth knew that her father appeared calm at the outside, but that he didn't take contradiction well and was nearly imperturbable in his decisions. Until today, she didn't know how her mother had succeeded in eliciting the promise from him not to marry Gwyneth against her will. She smiled; well, she _did_ know….

Sometimes Gwyneth wondered what to think of Rhobert's friend Guy. She was good-looking – that she had to admit – but he exuded a … a darkness that made her uneasy. He had talked to her a few times and she had felt his inquiring gaze.

Rhboert on the other hand evoked feelings in her she had never known before. He was tall, rather huge but not hulking or threatening. Although her head merely reached his shoulder, she never felt ill at ease in his presence. His hands were big but slim and well-shaped.

And now he had said farewell and she did not know when he would return. She looked after him and blinked and felt her eyes moisten. Feeling his arms around her and his lips on hers…. Some years ago, some knights had courted her, but she was able to read behind the men's polite words. Her father would provide her with a large dowry and they would accept her flaws in order to gain a Prince's daughter and the riches which came with this woman. How often had she lain in her bed and had looked at her scars, scars that would never disappear. Her future husband would put out the lights or close his eyes to avoid the sight. Never in her life would she endure revulsion or pity, she had sworn to herself.

Rhobert was different; that she felt and knew. But now weeks, perhaps months would pass until she would see him again and she had not even told him what she felt for him. "Rhobert! Wait!" she shouted out of the window, across the Court; he turned around and looked up. Laughter spread on his face and he knew…. With bounding strides he hurried back.

Gwyneth had halted at the gallery and waited for him. She heard his heavy footfall and then saw him turning the corner. He seemed to hesitate for a fracture of a second, but then he approached her decisively. He stopped only at arm's length and for a moment words failed him. He had hoped against reason that she reciprocated his feelings. Heavens, sometimes he was left in disbelief at what he felt. He was a grown man and love had struck him like lightning.

Gwyneth swallowed. "Rhobert, I don't want you to go and not to know…" She hesitated and licked her lips. "I want…." _You_ remained unspoken, but he heard it nonetheless.

Rhobert looked in her warm brown eyes; he had not misinterpreted what he thought he had seen in them although he still did not understand what she saw in him. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. "Are you sure, Gwyneth?" he heard himself ask in a voice he didn't recognise himself. "Could you be proud of a husband who is neither a warrior nor a wealthy man?"

"Yes, I could," Gwyneth replied softly. "I already am and I know that you have gained my father's respect."

Rhobert took her hand and stroked it tenderly. "I have to leave tomorrow. When I'm back, will you marry me?"

.

Gwyneth nodded happily. „I will talk to my father tonight. When you are leaving, I want to bid you farewell as your fiancée.


	33. Chapter 33

**Thank you again so much for revising, dear xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx.**

Illusions 33

Lord Rhys was surprised when a servant told him that his daughter Gwyneth wanted to talk with him. It was not often that she sought his company and - if he was honest with himself – he hardly knew her at all. He remembered her as a skinny little girl who had survived a horrible fire and who seemed to enjoy life despite her scars – odd. Once in a while her mother had sent her to The Court, and she had become a pretty, no, a beautiful young woman, the image of her mother. She would have been married for years if not for the scars at her legs. He had promised her mother to throw a feast for her, however this would not be possible with an upcoming war. The country's future was certainly more important than the question of whom his daughter would marry. Usually this wouldn't have been a problem at all; he would have married her off to one of his trusted noblemen. What had he thought of when he had promised her mother to let her choose her own husband? All this rushed through his mind when she approached him quickly and obviously purposefully and bowed.

He beckoned her to take a seat. "It seams that there is something important you want to discuss with me," he said kindly. "I don't suppose that you have come to bear me company."

Gwyneth looked into his eyes before averting hers and hesitating. "Well?" Rhys said encouragingly.

"It's about the promise you gave my mother about my marriage," Gwyneth said quietly but in a firm voice. "There is someone…someone I want to marry."

Rhys blinked and laughed. "You were quick indeed."

"Yes," Gwyneth replied and her mien was so different from what he had expected from his usually gentle daughter that he was impressed despite himself. Well, well, perhaps she's got more of me than I thought.

"Who? …Probably, it is Rhobert ap Morthwyl…?"

Gwyneth nodded and looked at her father, her determination evident.

"Don't look at me as if you expected my veto; I'm true to my word… I take it that you want my promise because Rhobert is leaving tomorrow. I will give notice to the chaplain… Rhobert is a good choice, Gwyneth."

Rhys smiled at his daughter and for a moment she caught a glimpse of what her mother must have seen in him. Although he was barely more than a stranger, she smiled back. Only a short time later, she took her leave. Rhys watched her, musing. He had meant what he had said; Rhobert ap Morthwyl was a good man. The most important thing, however, was that there was one thing less to consider, one problem fixed. The next weeks and months would be difficult and it was good to know his daughter would have a fiancé who cared for her; he was old after all and his days numbered.

Guy's mood was gloomy. He didn't want to remember Marian, didn't want the old feelings to awaken again – but they had. Repeatedly he cleaned his sword and watched it gleaming in the light; it was flawless as was the dagger Rhobert had given him. Damn! He resented Rhobert for having brought these pent-up feelings to light again. Rhobert was his friend, the best he could imagine; he gave without thinking what he would get back. How rarely have I shown him how I value our friendship. Determined, Guy got up heading for the smithy.

Guy had not spoken to his friend for some days, but he knew that Rhobert would go on a journey at the order of Lord Rhys. The castle buzzed with activity; Rhobert was not the only one to leave on the morrow. Soldiers prepared their gear and many of the men would disguise themselves as tradesmen or peasants. Guy's gaze should have noticed his friend's tall frame at once, but he wasn't there.

In hindsight he didn't know why he had headed towards the little chapel at the Northern wall of the castle. He had not been in a chapel since… then. This place was connected with a humiliation beyond compare. Marian in her white veil… He had put he ring on her finger… her punch…the scornful laughs… Breathing heavily he halted and was about to turn back as the heavy door opened with a creak – Rhobert and Gwyneth! The sight of their happy faces told him everything and he felt his stomach clench.

"Guy!" Rhobert saw his friend standing motionless just a few yards from the chapel. Without releasing Gwyneth hand, he stepped forward and toched Guy's arm. "I'm glad to see you. Gwyneth and I… tomorrow Lord Rhys will announce our betrothal.

"I wish you happiness." Guy knew he should have said more, but he simply could not.

"Guy," Rhobert added with a glance at Gwyneth. "Will you protect her if necessary as long as I'm gone?"

"You have my word," Guy answered hoarsely. "You can rely on me." Then he added hastily. "I have to go now, but there is something I have to tell you; will you wait for me in the evening?" He bowed to Gwyneth and left without saying another word.

Gwyneth stared at the retreating figure. "He doesn't seem very happy about our marriage. I know that he is your friend, but… Sometimes I don't feel quite comfortable in his presence… He's kind of scary."

Rhobert caressed Gwyneth's hand, "I trust Guy with my life… I cannot tell you much. Guy has done… many things he rues now… A woman he loved more than life itself used him and left him standing at the altar. Please understand… He didn't tell me this under the seal of confession, but I won't betray his confidence… He… he has changed and he is my friend."

Gwyneth mien had changed."I'm so sorry, Rhobert, I'm so sorry for him," she said, taken aback.

"Never tell him that you are sorry for him. Pity is something he seems to loath more than enmity."

It was already late at night when Rhobert heard a knock at his door. A jar with two mugs was standing on the table; Rhobert beckoned Guy to sit down and poured some wine, looking at Guy who had obviously regained his composure. For a while the friends were sitting silently, and then Guy curled his lips in a smirk. "When I was sitting opposite you for the first time, you remained silent, too, and I was thinking _Two can play this game_…Do you remember?... How many soldiers will you take with you?" He asked abruptly.

Rhobert laughed. "You are not concerned about me?" Guy didn't answer and Rhobert stated, grinning. "You _are_ concerned about me!"

"You know that I have asked Lord Rhys whether I could ride with you, but he refused." His mouth was grim. "He doesn't seem to trust me, now that it is not King Richard on England's throne but Prince John, at least for a while.

"Lord Rhys doesn't trust anyone, Guy. Perhaps he wants to watch you, but perhaps he only wants you to take care of Bran. Many a good man will be on his way in the next few weeks and it is important that brave men remain at the castle. And… I'm glad now that he refused for a good reason, too."

Surprised, Guy looked at his friend and Rhobert cocked an eyebrow. "You thought that I don't know anything about warfare; you forget that I was raised a knight, Guy. I hate bloodshed, but I am a realist… I will take two men with men; this has to be sufficient. Who would you recommend?"

"Take Kai with you if he has not been given another task; he is a good man… and maybe Elis..." Guy answered after a pause. "I know that you don't like to hear this, but you should take a knife with you, just to be on the safe side."

Rhobert didn't reply, but his face had darkened. "I told Griffin one of the reasons I liked you being my friend is that you don't fuss about me. Darn! Does anybody take me seriously?" Rhobet's laugh was rather strained and Guy realised that he had hurt his friend.

"I know very well that you detest violence but that you are able to defend yourself," Guy replied. "I remember only too well your fist hitting my chin or my ribs at the fist fights Lord Rhys ordered us to do. This is why I think it is better for you to defend yourself than relying on the men who will accompany you, even if they are able warriors." He pulled a dagger out of his belt. "It is not as precious a dagger as you gave me, but I have him made for you."

Carefully, Rhobert reached for the dagger. By now, he knew Guy well enough to know that although his friend was not inapt with words, he didn't deal well with expressing his feelings. This gift was his expression of friendship. "I thank you, Guy, and I will always treasure it."

"You shan't treasure it, you shall use it if necessary," Guy said gruffly as if he felt embarrassed for being thanked, and got up. "I have to go, Robert; take care. I will watch over Gwyneth."

It was only a short ceremony the next morning, a little crowd was standing near the little chapel after mass. Guy had stood a few yards from the altar and had watched his friend and the young woman he would marry soon, transfixed. 'I wish you happiness…you deserve it….'

The chaplain called Rhobert and Gwyneth forward and Lord Rhys took his daughters hand placing it into her fiancé's hand. Gwyneth didn't seem to perceive her surroundings. Her small hand was trembling slightly until she felt his caressing thumb on her palm. Much too soon it was over. The chaplain spoke a prayer; Gwyneth and Rhobert pledged loyalty to each other and after a blessing and a kiss they were dismissed.

There was an atmosphere of departure in the castle and the betrothal of Lord Rhys's daughter with one of his advisors was not of real consequence. So the crowd dissipated rather quickly. Gwyneth and Rhobert were glad not to be the centre of interest any longer; it was time to say farewell. A long and deep was anything they could share for now. Rhobert's mount had already been saddled and his men were standing by their horses, ready to leave any moment.

Guy lifted his hand to say good bye and Rhobert's lips brushed Gwyneth's hand, and then he was riding off and she was looking after him. She blinked and tried to suppress her tears, when she heard Captain Morgan's slurring voice behind her back. "You have to be a monk to take such a woman as your wife, to be sure."

Gwyneth stiffened, but before she could react, she heart a cry of pain and when she turned around, she saw Morgan lying on the ground, his face contorted. His lips were split and blood was running from a corner of his mouth.

Guy was looming over Morgan and glared at him, his eyes filled with rage. He spat in the man's face and then addressed Gwyneth.

"It would be an honour for me to accompany you, my lady," he said and offered her his hand.


	34. Chapter 34

**I'm really glad to have you as a beta**, **xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx. A great thank you again. It's been a while since I have posted the last chapter and the next one will take some weeks, too. I hope you like this chapter**

Illusions 34

Deep satisfaction filled Gwyneth when she saw Morgan lying on the ground, groaning; the gleeful glances of the surrounding people and the muted laughter showed only too well on whose side they were. The young captain had nearly lost all respect due to his drunkenness and his tantrums, when he lost at a game of dice.

And _she_ would make sure that he would not utter such malicious words again. Gazing at Guy gratefully, she said in a firm voice. "I'm deeply indebted to you, but I want to talk to my father first."

She did not wait for an answer and made her way through the crowd towards her father, who was standing at the other side of the courtyard, talking to one of his knights. Guy cocked an eyebrow; she had surprised him. Gwyneth was graceful and slender and seemed rather fragile; usually, she was a gentle woman, but was obviously, not willing to bear a conduct such as Morgan's towards her.

Guy turned towards the young captain, who had struggled to his feet and had sobered in an instant. Guy's eyes glittered dangerously and his fingers closed around Morgan's arm in a vice-like grip. "You. Stay!" he said grimly.

_Morgan had…what?_ Rhys's mien didn't forebode well as he came near. His contemptuous gaze met Morgan's, who swallowed and looked away, mortified. "You've already got what you deserved and I won't dirty my hands with you. Obviously, I made a mistake in making you captain of the guard. Your father was a good friend and your elder brother Amhar is one of my best men. You are a disgrace to your family and to this court and you are no longer in my services as of today. I'm expecting Amhar any day now and he will decide what happens to you. Don't harbour any illusions that he might be more lenient than I am. He knows well what he owes the name of his family. And now get out of my sight at once!...Guy, you are coming with me…and you, Gwyneth will bear me accompany at dinner tonight."

He smiled at his daughter kindly and knew that the bystanders had gotten the message. Gwyneth was only one of his illegitimate children and a female at that; she had not played a role in his life up to now and would certainly not in the future, but she stood under his protection and anyone who assaulted her, would have to deal with him.

The crowd dissipated soon enough and Morgan was left behind. Some men had laughed at him, and others had turned away, disgusted. _This damned woman!_ _It was her fault that he had fallen out of favour with Lord Rhys, hers and the Englishman's, who aggrandised himself. Women and strangers were ruling Wales; Rhys had become senile. Yes, if Gruffydd were Prince of Wales, then he, Morgan, would have gotten his well deserved place at his side, but now… It wouldn't be long and the story would be bandied about everywhere in the castle and his brother Amhar…Damn!_... Settled hatred surged up within Morgan, while he made his way to the tavern.

Guy had followed Lord Rhys to the Prince's chambers. Lord Rhys's grim mien had relaxed a little and he beckoned Guy to take a seat. "You know that I am pleased with your services. You are a good soldier and have completed your assignments the way I expected you to do. Today you have proved again that you are a reliable man. If you were a Welshman, I would not hesitate making you the new captain of the guard, but you know very well that this is impossible at the moment. Even so, you will be the leader of the guard for a while; too many of my men are on the way. You will have you reward; this you can be sure of. Some of my men are not quite sure whether you will stay here. It would be to your advantage to marry and prove that your loyalty lies with us now. There is an estate at the border to England and I could use a faithful man there. Drystan was a good warrior once and was given the estate by my father for services rendered. But he is an old and critically ill man now, who knows that his time is almost up. His only son has died a year ago and the buildings are threatening to decay; it's only a matter of time until some English knight in the neighbourhood might try to use this to his advantage."

_Marry_? The last person who had suggested that he marry had been Osgood, Guy thought wistfully, but he regained his composure immediately knowing that Rhys was watching him. The ruler of Wales war a man he respected and admired, a cunning fox, but also someone who knew what _honour_ meant.

"I will stay in Wales and serve you loyally, my lord," Guy answered. "And one woman is a good as another." He realised that Rhys didn't like his answer to the second question. At the same time he saw an expression in Rhys's eyes he was not able to interpret. "My lord, I'm grateful for the chance you have given me," he added. "Even if there should be a new king in England, I will never return. My future is here."

Rhys seemed to be satisfied for the time being and shortly thereafter Guy was dismissed. Satisfaction filled him; it had been only a few months since he had been banished from England, had been thrown off a cart and left for dead and now a promising future was waiting for him. He had not lied to Rhys when he had told him that he would make use of this opportunity. As for a wife… As much as he tried to banish Marian's picture in his mind, he didn't succeed. The feeling of humiliation he had suffered by her betrayal had seemed to extinguish everything else he remembered of her for a while, her smiles, the kiss, her hand on his shoulder... He realised now that he had merely blocked these thoughts out, but that he had not forgotten. Why had she asked the King to spare him? Had it only been pity as he had thought at first or had she spoken the truth when he had confronted her in that dilapidated hut, that she had been attracted to him despite herself? Perhaps this would be worse than believing in her treachery and lies.

But then he snorted contemptuously; she had wanted to save her hide and in this situation she would have said anything.

Rhys remained in his chambers, musing. He knew by now that he could trust Guy and he had seen that his people respected him, although he was English. Guy seemed to be a cautious man and didn't confide in anyone easily; Rhys had realised from the beginning that he could trust Guy with his life if he showed him respect and gave him assignments where he could prove his abilities as a leader. He wanted him to stay in Wales.

If this lady Rhobert ap Morthwyl had spoken of was indeed a woman from Guy's past, this could be important. He had to know which role she had played in his life. Rhobert had not given much away; he hadn't been comfortable to talk about this woman at all, but he had to ask permission to bring her to Wales if necessary. For Rhobert it had been the wish to do his friend a favour, but for the ruler of Wales this was a different matter. If this woman agreed to come with Rhobert and stay here, Guy would be grateful. On the other hand, if he was indifferent towards her, she would be sent away. Rhys had sensed something simmering under the calm surface Guy had shown him; so it was love or hate. Rhys knew what this meant although he had never grasped the true meaning of _love_. Certain marriages were necessary for the sake of the realm or in order to gain riches and on the other hands a man had physical needs, but passion or even love?

Guy was a taciturn man, but he was loyal; Rhys appreciated him and would have liked to put him in charge of the guard, even though he was no Welshman, but this was impossible now; too bitter was the hatred towards the English. Time would tell, if he could do so in the near future.

Marian closed the lit of the small, carved wooden box containing a delicate golden brooch, the last piece of jewellery she would sell. It would be one or two weeks until the pedlar would come back and then she would be able to leave the monastery. She had counted the coins and it had been much more than she had expected before. Inwardly she nearly laughed when she remembered the pedlar's face, who had thought of getting the better of the English lady and who at last had reluctantly and cussing in a muted voice taken the money out of his pocket. Still he would make a decent profit; this she knew.

How long was it since she had been brought here? Weeks had stretched to months and the last hope she had had that Robin would use his influence on the King to get her released, had died when she had heard the news about the campaign against France. But even if the King who had banished her to this convent should die in combat, she would not be able to return to Nottingham or to the court. The King's successor would be Prince John, then King John and he would put his vassals in charge of all the important posts; Nottingham would get a new Vaysey and she as the former fiancée of Robin Hood would still be in disgrace.

Leaving England, her homeland… She'd never imagine this, but now that her father was dead and she had no one to turn to… Much, Little John and Will were living near Nottingham, but when John reigned, they would have to flee, too. At least Robin had made sure that they got some money.

She was so deeply lost in thought that she probably had not noticed the knock on the door; only now that it knocked louder and she heard Mother Katherine's concerned voice asking "Lady Marian…?" she shook her head as if to clear her head and opened the door. The Mother Superior was standing in front of the door, smiling at her kindly.

Marian forced a smile; the old nun was a good woman, but Marian had not felt like smiling and simply didn't want to pretend.

"I would not disturb you, my child, if it didn't seem important. There is a visitor for you," the nun explained.

"A visitor? Perhaps a message from the King?"

As if she had heard the unspoken question, Mother Katherine shook her head. "He is a messenger of the Welsh ruler. His name is Rhobert ap Morthwyl."

Marian frowned. "From Wales? Did he say why he wants to talk to me?"

"He wanted me to ask you whether the name Guy of Gisborne means anything to you."

_Guy_? After all this time there was someone who obviously knew Guy, after all these months there was a sign of life from him…although… The man had not said that Guy was alive and even when… Wouldn't it be better to forget Guy? She was about to leave everything behind her. What would she gain, if she spoke to this man?

Long pent up emotions surfaced and Mother Katherine gazed compassionately at the young woman, who was even paler than usual and who fought her tears.

"No," Marian replied eventually. "Please tell him that the name doesn't mean anything to me."


	35. Chapter 35

**Thank you to my darling daughter who took the time to translate this chapter.**

Illusions 35

The door closed behind Mother Katherine, the sound of her steps trailing off…click…And with each step my past veers away…Guy, is he alive? This Welshman…did he want to tell me what has become of him or is he Guy's messenger? ….click, click…

Rhobert had waited in the small atrium of the cloister, furnished with a table and several chairs for guests. He relished the fresh food a nun had brought and stretched his exhausted limbs for a while. It felt good after weeks of exertion.

The trip was taking its toll. Although he was still a young man, he was not used to travelling for such a long time. Thank God his mission had been successful to a great extent. Most abbots were glad to have the opportunity to save lives. The men who had chosen a remote, meagre life in the small monasteries had not done so out of desire for prestige or power as Bishop Cadarn had done but were honest men for the most part. Now, however, all Rhobert longed to do was to return home even though he had soon discovered how much he had missed the feel of a horse between his thighs instead of a donkey. Rhobert had always possessed a natural love for horses, and he had had a hard time back then when he had chosen a monk's life to leave behind his beloved stallion, even though he usually did not cling to worldly possessions. Rhobert was glad he had not been forced to make use of the dagger Guy had given him. Twice they had come across highwaymen, but his men were brave and Rhobert had delightedly discovered that he had as much control of his fists as he used to have. He could take out a man with a forceful blow without killing him. At first, some of the soldiers had secretly smiled about the young former abbot who had been made their leader; yet he had soon secured his men's respect, especially since they saw that despite his friendly manner he was by no means a gullible fool.

Rhobert was exhausted, but it would not take long until he could return home, back to Gwyneth. For a moment he closed his eyes and pictured her gentle, loving face. A throat being cleared, however, yanked him out of his reverie; mother Katherine had returned and was eying him with an understanding smile. Clearing his own throat, he rose to his feet. "Forgive me… I was just..."

„I am sure whatever you thought of was most pleasant. There is no need to apologize. Happy memories are precious." She smiled once more, but this time it did not reach her eyes. "I am sorry but you seem to have come in vain. Lady Marian asked me to tell you that the name did not ring a bell." At once she knew that Rhobert had understood. He nodded slowly. "I had hoped… but obviously, there is nothing to be done about it…" How excited he had been upon learning from the mother superior that the young Englishwoman at the Abbey was indeed named Marian of Knighton; he had pictured telling Guy about it and bringing the young woman to the Welsh Court. However, reality was different, and his dreams evidently... just dreams.

Mother Katherine put her hand on his arms and replied appeasingly, "It seems there is nothing left to do but accept it, even though you had hoped for something else. After you have finished your meal, you may spend the night in the annex for our guests. I will leave you now."

"I thank you for your effort and your kindness", Rhobert replied; the old woman once more nodded to him pleasantly and left the room. Rhobert sat back down and reached absent-mindedly for a piece of bread. Why had Lady Marian denied knowing Guy? Was she indeed the cold, treacherous woman Guy was taking her for? He had not wanted to believe it, yet now everything seemed to confirm it. For some reason obviously unconnected with Guy she had become the object of the King's disfavour.

Had it been different, she would at least have listened what he, Rhobert, had to say. Perhaps he should be glad that Guy had not travelled here; what a disappointment fate would have had in store for him!

A slight tingling on his neck suddenly told Rhobert that he was no longer alone. He looked up and into the eyes of a young woman standing by the door. She didn't look in the slightest like Guy had described her. What had been his words after he had overindulged in some good wine? _Slender, but curvy and soft in all the right places… And when she smiled, the sun rose for me_. This young woman, however, did not look as if she had smiled recently, let alone laughed. She was thin, too thin, and had dark circles underneath her sad eyes. There she was, simply standing there, looking at him, almost as rigid as a wax figure. She had obviously been crying. "You wanted to speak to me? "she asked in a soft, yet flat voice.

Rhobert had leapt to his feet hastily and now pointed to the second chair by the little table. "Please, have a seat."

Marian, however, shook her head. "I thank you… Please, just tell me your message. Has... Guy sent you here?"

„No... that is... It's a long story, please, do sit down."

Marian looked at him suspiciously. The young knight's face was open, with friendly green eyes, but that told her nothing about him. He seemed nervous and at some point she finally sat down.

"Guy is my friend…"

_Guy was alive… and this Welshman was his friend…_

Rhobert raked his fingers through his hair nervously. In his head, explaining what had happened, had been much easier. It turned out, though, that living in a monastery for several years was not the ideal kind of preparation for such a conversation.

"I found Guy lying half-dead by the wayside. Until a few months ago, I had been the abbot of a small monastery close to the border, where we nursed him back to life…"

Marian stared at him incredulously. This young knight, an _abbot_? That's not what people did, leaving a monastery to become knight? What was that nonsense?

Rhobert felt her suspicion return and took a deep breath. "I know this is hard to believe. I would like to tell you the whole story, and then it is up to you what you'll make of it." His voice was regaining solid ground as he told the story of how he befriended Guy and how they had travelled together to Rhys ap Gruffydd's court. "Guy has told me about you", Rhobert concluded his tale. "And when I heard that a young Englishwoman had been taken to a small abbey at the border…"

"Guy has told you about me and you _still _decided to come here?" Marian clasped her hands together, only to disengage them again, running her fingers over her face, over her dress. "He may have loved me once but that is over. Maybe he doesn't hate me anymore because I saved his life, but… Does he know I'm here? You said he didn't send you…"

"I told him that I suspected the young Englishwoman I had been told about was _the_ Marian of Knighton…"

Marian looked at him, then her faced closed once more. "He doesn't want to see me," she concluded.

Rhobert shook his head.

"Then everything is said", Marian replied stiffly and rose. "I still thank you for coming. Thanks to you, I now know that he is alive and well."

"No, not everything is said… Please, don't leave yet. It is difficult to put it, but I know Guy well enough to know that, concerning the past and yourself, he is far from closure. And now that I have seen you, I am positive that you feel the same way. Guy doesn't know I'm here but I'm here as his friend. If you wish, I will take you with me to Wales."

"With you? To Wales?" Marian repeated. "I don't understand..."

"There is one more thing I have to explain to you", Rhobert went on. "For this special trip I had to get Lord Rhys's consent."

Marian turned bright red. "You have discussed this matter with your King?"

"Not in the way you think", Rhobert hurried to assure her. "I told him no more than was necessary without betraying Guy's trust." He took another deep breath. "What do you say? Would you like to come to Wales with me?"

Marian remained immobile. What should she do? To Wales, to Guy, who probably didn't want to see her, even though... if this knight was right… "I don't speak your language, and I don't know if I will ever manage", she finally said.

Rhobert's face lit up and he burst out laughing. "If that is all! I've taught a certain pupil once who had no talent for languages whatsoever, and now he's managing fine, even though I've got to admit that my ears still hurt every time he opens his mouth… You are coming?"

After a moment, Marian nodded. "However, I believe it is better if Mother Katherine does not know where I'm going. She is a good woman, but in the case someone enquires after my whereabouts, she should be able to answer with a clear conscience that she doesn't know."

She thought about it for a moment, then added: "I will leave the abbey tonight, before they close the gates. People will think I fled from you; anyway, they will not suspect that I followed you. I know the surrounding area pretty well by now; there is a cave that will serve me as shelter for the night. I will give you directions; have you got a knife?"

Rhobert stared at Marian as if a harmless little kitten had suddenly turned into a full-grown tiger. The woman he was facing now he could connect easily with the Lady Marian that Guy had described to him, with the woman that had fooled Guy as night watchman. He withdrew the dagger Guy had given to him.

Only a few minutes later, Marian left the room, leaving Rhobert staring after her open-mouthed. How different she seemed now, as if life had filled her once more. Her posture was erect and her gait determined. Yet suddenly the feeling came over him that he had made a terrible mistake. _What if I was wrong where Guy's feelings for Marian are concerned? God, help me! _he prayed silently_, then he walked over to his quarters. _

On the following morning, when he came to bid Mother Katherine goodbye, he learned that Lady Marian had secretly left the abbey. The mother superior eyed him with a smile. "I don't expect you to comment on this. Farewell, and may God be with you." She stared after the disappearing group for some time; she would pray for the sad young woman and surely, the young knight would protect her. It was obvious that he was an honest man.

It was a long time ago since she had last spent a night in the forest, and doing so now conjured up many memories. Robin, his youthful smile, Little John, Alan, Will, Djaq… She had wanted to help people and save England from Prince John's rule. Had she actually been that naive to believe that subjects mattered to a King? Black and white, how easily it had all seemed... and now she was on her way to a man who had tried to murder the King, who had been outlawed and… whom she loved. She had tried to suppress it, had called it lust, attraction, but all that had been lying to herself. What would he say when he saw her again? She was afraid, but the eternal not-knowing, the what-would-have-been-if would have been far worse. _Guy, I love you… _was her last thought before she fell asleep, covered by a cloak.

Riders! The guards on the towers were announcing the arrival of armed men, who were strangely enough approaching towards the castle so leisurely and openly that the guards soon realized that these were their own people. Still, one could never be cautious enough. Guy instructed to keep the arms ready. Friend or foe, one would discover soon enough, and caution was better than to fall into a trap. Hadn't Rhobert once told him about a giant wooden horse left before the gates of a city that contained enemy warriors?

But then Guy recognized who was approaching the castle. Rhobert was returning with his men. There was no mistaking his tall stature. Guy gave the order to open the gates and had a soldier notify Lord Rhys und Gwyneth.

He had missed his friend and they would have a lot to talk about, even though he knew that Rhobert would want to spend his first moments with another person.

Laughingly, Guy walked towards his friend, who was just dismounting from his horse, when he caught a figure at the end of the group out of the corners of his eyes, and froze. His eyes widened… It couldn't be true…

There was not a sound to be heard when Guy turned to his friend with steel in his eyes and the rage in his voice barely suppressed. "What is the meaning of this, Rhobert? What is _she_ doing here?"


	36. Chapter 36

**Thank you again for beta reading**, **xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx. You were as quick as always. *sending flowers***

Illusions 36

Rhobert saw Guy's barely suppressed rage, his voice hard and his eyes cold. He had seen it before when he had told Guy about a young Englishwoman in a convent, who had turned out to be Marian exactly as he had thought. Glancing at his friend now, he knew that Guy could be a dangerous man, even if he was positive that this was only the ire of a moment. Yes, he had made a grave mistake; this he knew now – He should not have brought Marian here without asking Guy at first.

Guy was with his back to Marian, ignoring her. Without waiting for an answer, he ordered one of the soldiers to close the gate and dashed off, his fury obvious in each step he took. None of the men dared say anything; they eyed the young woman Rhobert had brought with him curiously. Obviously, she was a woman from Guy's past and no one he liked to remember.

Rhobert's sad eyes followed his friend. He would have liked going after him, but this was impossible. The mission Lord Rhys had entrusted to him concerned the future of Wales and he could not allow a quarrel amongst friends taking precedence over his assignment. He would have to wait until he had reported to Lord Rhys. Even Gwyneth, who was rushing towards him across the courtyard, would have to wait. The joy Rhobert had felt when reaching the castle had vanished.

"Rhobert!" Gwyneth beamed at her fiancé, but she hesitated when she saw his face. "Rhobert… What has happened?" Tenderly, she touched his arm and felt slightly at ease when she saw his warm eyes enveloping her lovingly. _Yes, something had happened, but it had nothing to do with her._

"Gwyneth!" Rhobert's hand briefly touched her face and he cleared his throat. "I have to report to your father first. Would you…?... There is someone I brought with me…She is…Guy…." He faltered; how should he explain to her who this Englishwoman was? He looked at her pleadingly and pointed towards Marian, who was still standing beside her horse, her figure and mien petrified. "Would you take care of her? She's English and does not speak our language…"

"Rely on me," Gwyneth replied and nodded without asking further questions. Robert would explain everything later on and she already knew that there was a connection between this woman and the fact that Guy had strode off in fury. Then her breath caught: Could this woman be the one, who had left Guy standing at the altar and if so, where did Rhobert find her and why had he brought her here?

Marian followed the young woman Rhobert had addressed as Gwyneth and who seemed to be his wife. She was glad that she could leave the courtyard and was removed from the curious and distrustful glances she had met, but she knew speculations had only begun. Her heart had ached when she had seen Guy's face, contorted with hatred. Only for a short moment he had looked at her, but she had seen everything in his gaze. Her hopes to talk to him, to explain to him, to beg his forgiveness… they had been illusions like so many other things in her life.

Lord Rhys was more than satisfied with the intelligence Rhobert had conveyed to him. They would be able to deal with the English and would no longer be at their mercy. Rumours had been true; many of them had joined King Richard for his new campaign. At the moment, Wales was far too insignificant and too small to require their attention and Prince John would need time to secure his own reign. Only briefly Rhys had asked about Lady Marian, but had not asked any questions when he had learned of Guy's reaction. Obviously, the Englishwoman was of no consequence and would leave the country soon enough.

Guy was in his chambers as Rhobert had guessed and looked up when the door opened, his mien still grim. He remained silent and did not get up but only faced his friend, his eyes glittering.

"I owe you an apology," Rhobert said at last. "I should not have brought her without your consent. Still, I do not understand you. Please, hear her out and afterwards…"

"I'd thought that at least _you_ would understand," Guy shouted at him, interrupting him rudely. "I don't need anyone manipulating me again. You are my friend and you knew that I didn't want to see her again ever and nonetheless… Did you think that, once I'd see her again, I would get down on my knees and make an idiot of me once more? What kind of sappy story did she tell you, Rhobert?" he sneered.

"You're too pigheaded to realise that she was probably sent to this convent because she pleaded for your life?" Rhobert shouted back. "She didn't tell me anything! Not a word! The only thing she wanted to know was whether you had sent me. You should have seen her, she…"

Guy's hard gaze softened and Rhobert saw the hurt in his eyes. "Believe me, I have thought long and hard about everything and sometimes I had wished…." He halted and shook his head. "But there is nothing that could explain why she was sitting on the dais when she King made a spectacle out of my reprieve. Why, do you think, was she there? If the king had been furious about her appeal, why was she among the spectators? Am I led to believe that he wanted to punish her by making her watch all this? Why did he grant her request then? Perhaps it was pity she felt for me, but perhaps my humiliation was more precious to her than my death. No, there are other reasons why she was sent to the nunnery."

Rhobert stared at Guy, unable to reply anything. Perhaps Guy was right, perhaps Marian of Knighton had only been too glad to get out of the convent and everything else had been his own wishful thinking.

Guy sighed. "I'm sorry, Rhobert. Nobody knows better than I do that you want to see good things in people. I should be grateful, but I think your kind heart has played a trick on you. – I take it your mission was successful?" He changed the subject and Rhobert knew that it was no use to pursue the matter further. He didn't even know what to think about Lady Marian; Guy's remarks had made him insecure. He would have to talk to the woman tomorrow; during the journey, she had avoided the subject of her past and the reasons why she had been in the convent, but he wouldn't let her get away with this.

Now, however, the only thing he needed was Gwyneth arms around him and afterwards a soft bed. He was deadly tired and unable to think straight.

Guy saw his friend's exhausted face; he rose and laid a hand on his shoulder. "We won't talk about it any more; I should not have insulted you. You are my friend, the best friend I can imagine and this won't change, no matter what may happen."

Rhobert blinked but didn't say anything and left shortly thereafter. He was on his way to his chambers when a sudden smile lit his face. Even if Guy was not aware of this, he _had_ changed. The man Rhobert had found beside the way months ago would not have apologised, least of all if he had reason for his anger.

Gwyneth had waited for him in the hallway. She wore a cloak but shivered; obviously she had been standing there quite a while. "How long have you been waiting, Gwyneth?" Rhobert asked, concerned, and took her in his arms. She nestled up against him. "Too long," she said, smiling up at him. "But it was too long the moment you left for your journey."

Rhobert closed his eyes for a moment and relished in the feeling of Gwyneth in his arms; he was the happiest man in the world. Then he sighed and released her reluctantly. "I'm so tired; I can barely stand upright," he admitted. "Tomorrow we'll talk and I also have to explain and….Lady Marian?" he added.

"She is probably asleep in her chambers. She was exhausted and obviously glad to be left alone. Rhobert… Is she the woman you told me about, the one who left Guy…?"

Rhobert nodded and Gwyneth continued. "Before you left I told you that I was somehow afraid of Guy, but I have revised my opinion." Rhobert glanced at her questioningly. „You had merely left when Morgan, the captain of the guard, insulted me – and you – but Guy made him rue his words immediately. He has protected me all the time you were gone and I felt quite safe with him. He is not the person I considered him in the beginning and now I know why this friendship is so important to you, to both of you and I approve with all my heart. But this woman… Is it possible that you made a mistake?"

"It is possible," Rhobert admitted. "I will talk to her in the morning and if she is not what I thought…." He halted and then continued. "….I will make sure that she is leaving Wales on the next available ship.


	37. Chapter 37

_**A big hug to xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx for being such a kind and quick beta**_

Illusions 37

Marian had slept soundly and dreamlessly and was grateful that nothing had disturbed her slumber, not even her usual dreams of Guy and her, his smile, his lips on hers, his hand her naked skin. Perhaps the sight of the rage on his face and his irreconcilability had done something to her she not succeeded in before – banning all thoughts of Guy. While in the convent she had tried hard to forget him, but it had only been her mind during the day; her heart had not followed at night.

She would leave Wales as soon as possible; Rhobert ap Morthwyl had promised her to let her go if she wished to. She spoke French and in the South of France, she would try to build a new life. She had hesitated at first when she had learnt that King Richard had set off to France for a military expedition, but what else should she do? Nearly all the countries surrounding England were either vassals or in war with England at one time or another. She would seek shelter in a village rather than a town, far away from the courts of nobility and far away from war.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts; a servant brought breakfast and Marian forced herself to eat. When it knocked again shortly afterwards, she knew this had to be Rhobert. Gazing at him, she knew at once that something was different; he was… more reserved than he had been before and she knew why – he had changed his mind about her. She beckoned him to take a seat and looked at him fiercely. "To cut a long story short," she said without preliminaries. "I will do what I had intended to do anyway. I take it that I may enjoy your hospitality until I can go aboard a ship to France." Her voice was brusque and her mien harsh.

He should have been content; this was the best solution for everyone, but Rhobert knew at once that he didn't want to take the easy way out. "Tell me what happened between you and Guy," he asked her softly.

"And _you_ will believe me and _Guy_ will believe me and we will live happily ever after? - Don't be absurd!" she burst out.

"Please tell me nonetheless," Rhobert replied.

Marian stared at him and laughed, her voice bitter. "You want to hear _my_ version? I'm well aware that you are Guy's friend and looking at you I know that you have already passed judgement on me. He's got good reasons not wanting to see me again; I'd only hoped…"

Rhobert gazed at the young woman, who had stood up and was pacing restlessly. Obviously, she was too shaken to think clearly. She drew a deep breath and finally continued without looking at Rhobert. "You know that I spied on him. I had known for a long time that he had feelings for me, although at first I was not aware what kind of feelings. I rather suspected that I was part of him ambitious scheme to restore the prestige of his family. I didn't mind tricking him; I wanted to help the villagers in Nottingham and he was the corrupt sheriff's henchman. I only accepted his offer of marriage because I saw no way out and it was only later that I realised that there was something between… But even then I didn't want to …I didn't want to want him, do you understand?... When I left him at the altar, I humiliated him beyond compare and nonetheless he was willing to forgive me and to believe me… Sometimes he was so…so different and then… He saved my life and risked everything for me. I was so ashamed. My whole life I had loved Robin of Locksley and suddenly I realised that everything was…. And when they captured him… I didn't want him to die and the King had promised me a reward. I knew that he hated me, I saw his gaze then at the King's Court… It's madness, I have fallen in love with a man I never wanted and Robin of Locksley has become a…a fawning courtier, who's not able to look beyond himself and the King. Yes, and the King….!" She laughed shrilly and bitterly. "The King only fulfilled my plea because he was sure that I would become his mistress….. All this does probably make no sense for you…"

But they did; all these confused and desperate words made perfect sense and Rhobert knew at once that Guy had been mistaken. It had not only been pity she had felt for him and definitely no vengeance. Marian's dreams of love had been crushed by reality. Her eyes were too big in her face and Rhobert saw how hard she tried to suppress the tears which threatened to surface.

He would have to tell Guy about this conversation and would convince him to talk to Marian once more. "I believe you, my Lady," he said. "And I will tell Guy…"

Marian shook her head. "No, don't; it is over and I don't want his pity."

Rhobert nearly smiled; these two were more similar than they themselves knew. But then he sobered. "I would not act against your wishes, Lady Marian, but I think you are making a mistake," he said eventually. He had brought her here although Guy had told him that he didn't want to see her again and he had awakened hope in her. He would not meddle with her affairs again. "You've told me that you wanted to leave for France; shall I aid you with this?

Marian nodded and Rhobert continued. "I know that in about a week a ship is sailing to France. You may stay with me and my fiancée Gwyneth; it will be best anyway, since you don't understand our language… Nevertheless, I will have to present you to Lord Rhys tonight." Then he smiled. "There is another person whose company I could recommend to you. His name is Bran and he will certainly use this opportunity to talk in English." At Marian's close-lipped expression he added. "Bran is seven years old." Obviously he had said the right thing, since her lips curled in a tiny smile. "I'm grateful; this should be the right company for me."

"Then I will send him to you," Rhobert replied and bowed.

The presentation to Lord Rhys was only brief as Marian had thought herself. He was an imposing figure despite his age and polite but reserved. When she asked him to get his permission to leave with the next ship available, he gave his permission at once and allowed her to withdraw soon enough.

Not much later she saw Bran for the first time; he seemed guarded and nearly suspicious. Marian didn't know what the boy had heard about her. Probably most people only knew that she had known Guy and that he didn't want to see her know. The Welsh Court was provided with ample opportunity to gossip.

Astonished, she had learned that he was Lord Rhys's youngest son and that he was trained by Guy. "I like him and he is a good teacher." he said and looked at Marian challengingly. _Dare to deny this_! His gaze seemed to say. But when she didn't contradict but looked at him encouragingly and asked him what kind of weapons he liked, he became more open. He was somewhat surprised - a woman who was interested in weapons? He had a sword his father had had made for him for his birthday. Mostly he trained with a friend and Guy was showing him different tricks and he was the best warrior here anyway – besides his father of course – and…

Marian nodded; for her moment she gazed into space and Bran frowned. She quickly recovered herself and smiled at Bran, glad that the touch of melancholy was over so soon. Yes, she could imagine how he dealt with the boy, even though she had never seen him with a youth. What Rhobert had told her and what she had hoped for… If Guy had had a son, he would have looked similar to Bran with his dark locks…. _I'm dreaming again._

"I have to learn English to understand my en… the English better," she heard Bran say. "Can you tell me about England? Do you know the English King?"

Marian's smile froze and the boy saw at once that something was at fault. "Yes, I know the English King," she said slowly. "He is dangerous… I can tell you about England, but mostly, it is not different from Wales, a bit warmer perhaps and the people are the same everywhere. If you want to I can tell you about Nottingham where I grew up. My father was the Sheriff but then he grew old and one day, there was a new Sheriff…"

Guy was glad when Rhobert told him that Marian would leave Wales soon; a few days from now his life was what it used to be. He had seen that his friend hand wanted to say more but then he had shaken his head slightly and had left.

Yes, he was glad and it was good that she seemed to be indoors most of the time; so at least he didn't have to see her. It had only been a glimpse at the castle gate, big eyes in a pale face…damn!

Angrily he tossed his sword to the ground and Bran, who was sitting opposite him cleaning his own dagger and sword, looked up, startled. He had never seen his teacher so glum. Guy bowed down to pick up his weapon, when Bran asked him. "Is this about the English lady that you are so sour? I like her alright."

Guy froze and then cleared his throat. "You've talked to her then?"

"Yes, Rhobert thought that I should bear her company and learn some more English. She even asked about my weapons and what I like and I have told her that you are my teacher…and she knows the English King and told me he is dangerous and that her father used to be the Sheriff in Nottingham until he got to old and that there was another Sheriff she fought against… a _woman_…and she had _fought_…" Bran said, obviously impressed.

Guy's heart sank; why had the boy not turned in horror from him by now? He had to know…

But Bran continued. "She told me that she knows some tricks, too. Have you seen her fighting? I would like to see that…"

Obviously Marian had not told the boy about all the crimes he had committed. Bran was as impartial as before. "Yes, I have seen her fighting and she is…good, she…" He halted.

Bran frowned. "She was odd and looked funny when I talked about you." He grabbed his sword and began to polish it. He sighed; hopefully, Guy would be back to normal soon. He knew quite well what it was that gave Guy such foul mood; it was _luuuuuvve_ and if you got so moody, he would definitely keep away from it for his whole life.

Guy rose and left the armoury without a word. Marian, had she talked to the boy in order to butter him up and why had Rhobert sent Bran to her in the first place? He would have to talk to Rhobert. Then he drew a deep breath. No, Rhobert would not meddle; this he was sure of. And it was not that important anyway… only a few days and he would never see her again… never again…

Without being aware, he headed toward the building where the guests were accommodated.


	38. Chapter 38

**Thank you to everybody who reviewed; you really make my day with these reviews. Please give my dear beta a warm hand; she' s always so quick - besides being a nice person. I just wanted to tell you that there will be another 5 chapters (this one not included) and an epilogue.**

Illusions 38

His feet seemed to have its own mind, but then he heard how a door creaked open and paused. What am I doing here? Mechanically, he clenched his fists and then blinked at the sight of Gwyneth, who was standing in the door; she looked at him, surprised and then smiled. "Do you want to…?"

"No!" Guy replied gruffly, turned on his heels and strode away.

"Wait, Guy!...Guy!"

He had no other choice than to stop and wait for her, but the expression in his blue grey eyes was icy. He liked Gwyneth, but why would everybody meddle in his affairs?

Gwyneth laid her hand softly on his arms and sensed how he became even more forbidding; she shook her head slightly. "You are mistaken; I wanted to ask you, if you were looking for Rhobert since he'd like to talk to you, too and…" Taking in his mien she hesitated and continued. "Rhobert respects your decision, even though… Please, don't be angry with him."

"Does _everybody_ in the castle know about Marian and me now?" Guy snapped and shook off her hand. Gwyneth blinked; she didn't know this side of Guy yet. After the incident with Morgan he had borne her company more than just a few times. He'd never looked at her disparagingly or intrusively. At the beginning, she had felt more as an assignment than a person; when she had told him, Guy had looked at her, surprised and had laughed. Thereafter something had changed between them and she had felt that a fragile sort of friendship had developed. Gwyneth had learned to like this guarded and solitary man. The uneasiness she had felt in his presence had completely vanished, and now….

She blushed and took a step back. "_Nobody_ knows and Rhobert didn't even tell _me _everything he knows. He didn't want to talk about this, not even to my father… Believe me…"

Guy had recovered himself and seemed to relax a little, but the smile that curled his lips didn't reach his eyes. Gwyneth averted her eyes and continued. "Guy, it's jsut as well that I tell you the reason why Rhobert wants to talk to you: Father Conway will wed Rhobert and me tonight. I know, it's a bit sudden, but some of the knights will have to leave in a few days and my father is busy gathering troops. We don't want to wait and a big wedding is not really important to us, even less at times like these. Best you talk to Rhobert.

"I'm happy for you," Guy replied, but his voice told her that he himself was not a happy man. "I will go to Rhobert," he added stiffly. He nodded to Gwyneth and stalked away, angry about himself. He knew that he had wronged Gwyneth the way he had treated her; she had always been honest to him and she was not responsible for the whole situation. Probably it was his own fault and it had been his behaviour that had led to gossip. _Damn! Some weeks ago, everything had been in order and now…._

Gwyneth gazed after his retreating figure. Right now she had seen a glimpse of Guy how he had been before, moody and probably hot-tempered. She had seen the flicker in his eyes and the barely suppressed rate. The predator was still slumbering within him and everything was related to this woman Rhobert had brought with him. Bad things must have happened, and the sooner she left the better.

She shook off the troubling thoughts; there was much to do until the evening. She had to wash her long hair and dry it, take a bath with and don the dress she had made herself. She had begun to work on it after Rhobert had left and each stitch had reminded her that he would come back and marry her, each blossom and each twine she had embroidered at the sleeves and the neckline. No woman could be happier than she was. After the wedding there would be a feast, not a big one, and then…. Gwyneth swallowed.

Yes, she knew that Rhobert loved her, but she felt uneasy at the thought of him seeing her legs. What would he say? There was nothing to sugar coat; her legs were blotched by scars, red and ugly. She would always have to cover them at night… If she blew out the candles immediately… Then she saw Rhobert's warm eyes in her mind's eye and she already seemed to feel his hands on her arms, her face, her shoulders… She blinked. What a relief that she was alone; she touched her crimson cheeks and drew some deep breaths.

Tonight she would be his wife; she didn't mind a small wedding, on the contrary. Of all the people who would come to celebrate only a few would understand, that Rhobert and she loved each other with all their heart. Nobody would have spoken as crudely as the drunken Morgan had, but Gwyneth knew that some people who didn't know them might think Rhobert ambitious or her lucky to get a husband – any husband. Probably her father didn't know or didn't care… her old nurse knew and …Guy.

Her thoughts were back to Rhobert's friend… and hers. Yes, he had become her friend, too, although he would probably be surprised, if he knew.

Rhobert's eyes lit up when Guy entered the chambers, but he saw at once that Guy's smile didn't reach his eyes and that he was still in a somewhat sullen mood. Rhobert only looked at him and finally Guy snapped, "What?"

"I hope," Rhobert said finally, cocking an eyebrow. "…that you will be in a better mood this evening as my best man."

_Best man? __**He**__ should be best man at Rhobert's and Gwyneth's wedding?_ Guy blinked.

"I don't know why you are surprised, Guy. You are my best friend and it has always been a tradition that not a relative but the groom's best friend is best man." He paused and looked directly at Guy. "Or don't you want it?" His voice was hoarse and Guy realised that he would really hurt his friend, if he refused. Yes, he would have liked it better, if Rhobert had chosen someone else; he wasn't suited to bare witness of someone else's bliss of love. It was an honour and Rhobert hat chosen him and no friend from his boyhood, him, an Englishman not Welshman. It was proof again of Rhobert's unswerving friendship.

"I will be your best man," he replied softly. "And I'm happy for you." Then he cleared his throat. "Well, and now it's time for a cup of ale or we'll become completely soppy and the mockery of the maids."

Rhobert laughed, relieved; he was glad that Guy had consented and slapped him on the back, reaching for the jar on the table. His thoughts drifted off to Marian; he hoped that Guy would not rue his decision not to speak to her. Only a few days from now on and she would leave Wales for good. Inwardly he sighed. This day would be he happiest in his life, but nevertheless he could not stop thinking about his friend's feelings for Marian. But Rhobert had learned that he could not save the whole world and after his wrong decision to take Marian to the Welsh Court, he knew now what well meant advice or help could lead to.

"Just one or two cups, Guy. I don't intend spend my wedding night drunk and snoring, and a best man, who's lying under the table before the marriage ceremony, is of no use to me either."

When Rhobert had told Marian that he and Gwyneth would be married this very evening and that they would be glad if she came, Marian had shaken her head. "Please, I wish you happiness from my heart, but I would be out of place there and since I don't understand your language…" Marian was positive that Rhobert had felt obliged to invite her, but had been relieved that she had refused the invitation. It was better for her to remain in her chamber. She hated the curious and sometimes derogatory glances and this morning she had had an encounter that showed her she had to leave soon, or she would have to endure more than only these glances. She was English and if she turned up at the wedding, there might be more than just glances with all the men drinking heavily at the feast.

Bran had wanted to show her his weapons and pony; she had smiled at the boy's elation and had waited for him near the stables. A young knight had come out of one of the buildings and had paused. Mostly, the castle's inhabitants ignored her, even though she felt their glances, but this young man seemed to be an exception. She had smiled politely and obviously he had taken this as an invitation to step forward towards her. He was well-dressed and rather good looking with his dark locks and green eyes, but despite the early hour his breath had reeked of alcohol and he swayed slightly. Disgusted, she had flinched, and he had flashed her a furious glance. Then he had said something she had not understood, but she knew that it had been no flattery. If he touched her, she would have to defend herself and this could be dangerous, given that the English were not exactly popular here. The knight had stepped towards her threateningly, but in that very moment, Bran had come out of the stable with his pony and she had moved towards him and had turned her back to the drunken man.

It was silent in the annex. There were only a few chambers for guests and some storage rooms. The castle's inhabitants would be in the little chapel by now and Guy… Two days more and Rhobert would have her accompanied to the harbour, two more days and she's never see Guy again. She'd seen him when she had arrived and his face had been contorted with rage; this was the last she had seen of him. She would have to begin a new life without this man, who hated her. He didn't want to talk to her, but perhaps she could just catch a glimpse of him, could memorise his face and never forget it. He would stand near the altar as a best man and would not notice her. Everybody else would be occupied and it was dark in the chapel. Only one glance…She shouldn't do it; it would hurt…

Marian wrapped a soft woollen cloak around her and left her room. When she drew near the chapel, she already heard people sing. What if the door creaked? Carefully, she touched the latch and was relieved: they had left the door ajar. Marian slipped into the chapel unseen. Her heart was in her mouth and she drew a deep breath….There…

Rhobert and Gwyneth were standing in front of an old chaplain, facing each other and holding each others hands, their happiness obvious and their faces glowing. Only two steps aside stood Guy; he, too, was clad in festive attire and said something to the chaplain she could not understand. Then he stepped back and the marriage ceremony went on.

Marian leaned against the cold stone wall and stared ahead. In a few moments it would be over and she had to hurry to leave the chapel unseen. She should not have come here. What had she hoped for? He would never look at her as he used to do. If only she could erase his contemptuous gaze from her memory. There… he was smiling, not much, but for a few seconds she could imagine that this smile had been for her. She cast a last glance at the tall, slender man with the dark locks and the bold profile, laid her hand on the latch and froze: Guy had turned around and his gaze met hers.


	39. Chapter 39

_**A big hug to my beta xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx. My, you are quick - I've got this chapter back even before I sent it. *giggling* A great thank you to everyone who reviewed. I know, this is only a short chapter, but this was the reason I translated it so quickly. The next will be up in a few weeks.  
**_

__Illusions 39

In hindsight, Guy didn't know why he had turned around. What did she want? She didn't know Rhobert well and Gwyneth hardly at all; so why would she be present at the wedding, a wedding ceremony held in Welsh? And, according to her startled expression, she had not wanted to talk to _him_; so - why?

The people in the chapel were crowding the happy couple to congratulate. For a short moment Guy wavered; perhaps Rhobert was right and it was about time to face the facts. He should confront her, should hear her saying her lies once more, should tear any feeling he still harboured for her, from his heart. Surreptitiously, he looked around; nobody paid attention to him and nobody seemed to have noticed Marian. Slowly he moved towards the exit.

Meanwhile, Marian had recovered herself; she pushed against the door, opened it for a second and slipped out. Then she waited.

He was standing so close to her that he could see the fluttering pulse at her throat. With one hand he brushed a strand of hair out of her face and for a moment she felt, how his fingers touched her lips as if caressing her.

"What did you want, Marian?" he asked in a deceptively mild voice and his disdainfully curled lips showed her that she had hoped in vain. "Did you want to tell me that everything has changed, that I was wrong about you… that you love me and have always loved me?...Or do you want to ease your bad conscience? No need to tell me that you only used me, I've known for a while. " He took a step back and looked at her coldly. "Yes, I know from Anne and Osgood that you asked the King for my life and I'm…grateful. I spared your life at the charburner's hut, so we are even." His mien had not changed and his eyes were hard. "I will tell you what happened. The noble Robin of Locksley had tired of you. Perhaps he found someone else at the court and tried to get rid of you. And then you remembered this fool Guy of Gisborne, who would have given anything just to hear that you loved him….then."

He looked down at her in the same way he had at the charburner's hut and at this moment something died in her. She would not run after an illusion like she had before with Robin. The time she had spent at the convent, longing for Guy… all her dreams of him, her hopes - illusions too. She had chosen to ignore the facts; he would never forgive her and suddenly she knew that she didn't want him anymore.

Guy watched her with narrowed eyes. He didn't know what he had expected, perhaps a stammered apology or a blush. With surprise he noticed, that she lifted her chin and looked into his face; her voice was tired but firm. "You're right. Robin didn't want me anymore… and the reason why I'm here? I don't know anymore. Perhaps I hoped that you could forgive me, but you won't, will you? Even if I went down on my knees and asked for forgiveness, it would be futile. You don't want to forgive me and you don't want to see that I might tell the truth. And I…I have fallen in love with a man, who doesn't exist. Good-bye, Guy!

With theses words she turned around and left him standing there. She didn't look back and Guy stared after her, unable to respond, although he knew she was right. She had not tried to change his mind by flattering him but had left when she had seen his irreconcilability. And probably she had been right to leave. Without moving Guy watched her retreating figure.

This was even better than he had thought. Morgan was standing in the shadow of a wall, grinning and then pulled his dagger out of his sheath. He had not understood _what_ Guy and the Englishwoman had said, but obviously it had not been terms of endearment. The foolish, arrogant Englishman hadn't even noticed him and now he would rue it. It was _his_ fault that Morgan's future was in shambles and that he would have to leave the Court to become a steward at his family's estate. He – a stewart! It was Guy's fault that everybody mocked him now.

The woman's presence was a gift from heaven. The rift between her and Guy was well known and when they'd find him with a dagger in his back in the morning, she would be the likely suspect. Morgan had made sure that he was seen _drunk_ leaning at a wall and everybody would swear that he had been to inebriated to harm Guy. Morgan's eyes were glittering…This Englishwoman…this way he was able to kill two birds with a stone. He remembered her disgusted mien… she, too, thought she was a cut above the rest.

There… she was leaving. Guy was still standing rooted to the spot and nobody was to be seen; everyone was in the chapel. Slowly the woman disappeared; there would be no better opportunity. Carefully Morgan sneaked forward – just a few yards more! He lifted the dagger and took another step, when his boot foot touched a stone. It was only a hushed crunch on the gravel but enough to alarm Guy. He jerked around – too late. With a single bound Morgan jumped Guy and dashed him to the ground. Aaaargh! Guy cried out in pain when the assassin plunged the dagger into his shoulder. Swiftly Morgan pulled the dagger out and jabbed out again. This time he seemed to succeed; Guy groaned and slackened. Just one more time to make sure that this son of a bitch was dead! There…footfall! When he looked back, he saw the Englishwoman running towards him.

He had to get away immediately. If she had heard something, there might be others and he could be seen… On the other hand…perhaps she would be caught _red handed_. This was perfect.

Marian had nearly reached the little annex when she heard a cry. Alarmed, she looked back and saw two shadows fighting in the darkness. Guy! She gathered her skirts and ran back. One of the men rose quickly and hastened away, the other one remaining, lying on the ground. Marian knelt down; it was Guy and he didn't move. She touched him…blood…blood everywhere. Was he dead? Help, she had to get help! Marian opened her mouth, but no word came out; then she heard voices and rose. The wedding ceremony was over and the people came milling out of the chapel. One of the men shouted something and then they were running towards her. Rhobert was the first one to reach her - He would help!

Rhobert's face was contorted with fear when he knelt down. Two other men dragged Marian from Guy's side, grabbing her roughly by her arms and Marian understood. They thought _she_ had killed Guy.

"Do something!" she shouted hysterically. "Do something" He mustn't die!"


	40. Chapter 40

**My lovely beta, xxCee-Gisborne-Cullenxx, has not abandoned me, but I had so tight a schedule that a friend, who is a translater, did part of the translation of this chapter for me. Thank you so much, bellydancer. Anyway, hugs to you, too, Cee. I hope you like this chapter; thank you to everyone who took the time to review. I hope I replied to each of your comments. There are waiting three more chapters and an epilogue.  
**

Illusions 40

Rhobert knelt beside Guy, who was lying on the ground, completely motionless. Only seconds later, he rose. "He's alive! Quick – a stretcher!" he shouted. Two men hastened to obey, while Rhobert ripped several lengths of cloth from his swiftly unfastened cloak. His hands shook when he pressed a wad against the bloodstained shoulder to staunch the flow of blood. For some moments, Gwyneth had been standing at his side, petrified like the other people, who gathered around the wounded man, murmuring. She blinked and laid a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Please, Rhobert, let me do this," she said and gently edged him aside. Everybody knew that Rhobert had been a monk, but except for his family, the King and herself, nobody knew about his reaction to the sight of blood, and she would make sure that it remained this way. Gwyneth laid her finger on Guy's throat to fee the pulse…Yes, Rhobert had not been mistaken and… had she heard a faint groan?

The murmur died down and two servants edged themselves through the curious crowd. Gwyneth rose and stepped back, while Guy was hoisted on the stretcher. "I will tend to his wounds, she said, gently stroking Rhoberts shoulder. "He won't die; he mustn't die." She darted a contemptuous glance at Marian and hurried away.

Rhobert stared at Marian. It had been him, who had brought this woman, him, who had meddled in his friend's life and it was his fault, if Guy should die. He felt as if choked and a blazing hatred welled up in him, something he had never known before. He clenched his fists, at first unable to utter a word and then drew a deep breath. "Never in my life have I rued something more than bringing you here. Guy was right: You're a brilliant actress. You will…."

He had not even noticed that Lord Rhys had stepped beside him, until he felt the ruler's hand on his arm. "She will get what she deserves, Rhobert."

"It wasn't her!" a silver voice chimed in. "It was _him_!" Bran pointed at Morgan, who was sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall and watching everything through half-closed eyelids. "I _saw_ it!" A murmur went through the crowd, but Morgan didn't move. Everyone had seen that he was too drunk to even move; this he was sure of. He had poured ale over his tunic and overturned a chair in the tavern. Who would give credit to the bat's tale, even if he was the Prince's son?

Rhobert hesitated for a moment and then shook his head. "You must be mistaken, Bran," he replied.

"I _saw_ it and I'm _not_ mistaken."

_Mass was boring. Why was it that Guy could go and he had to stay? Bran was glad that he __was in the rearmost row of the chapel and that all the others had gone forward to watch the wedding ceremony. So nobody saw that he knelt on the bench and pressed his nose to the glass window, glancing into the courtyard. There was not much to see and he breathed against the window, fogging it and then drawing a horse with his finger. But then…There was Guy and he was following Lady Marian…aha… They were standing in the courtyard and of course he could not understand what they said. This was boring, too. Bran looked around and saw that nobody was paying attention to him; so why should he stay any longer? Unnoticed, he slipped out of the chapel and saw Lady Marian hurrying away and Guy remaining rooted to the spot. He opened his mouth to attract attention to himself and then…suddenly appearing out of thin air a man jumping Guy and raising a knife….Morgan, it was Morgan ap Owain. Bran was unable to move; he gasped and covered his mouth in terror… Marian, running back to Guy, the wedding party coming out of the chapel…Guy…Morgan had killed Guy…When Bran finally succeeded to make his way through the crowd, he saw Guy being carried away on a stretcher and two men holding the English lady…_

"It wasn't her!" Bran repeated, looking straight in Rhobert's face. With a single bound one of the men was at Morgan's side and pulled him roughly to his feet. It was Brian, one of the soldiers, who had befriended Guy. "If Bran is right, Morgan should have blood on his clothing. A torch, quickly!" he shouted.

Morgan froze; he had not paid attention, but probably there was some blood on his tunic. His plan had been good, but he had not been prepared that anybody might pay attention to him. He had wanted to watch everything, watch how the bloody Englishwoman was led away as a prisoner and now… In the light of the torch it became obvious that his hands and his tunic were stained with blood.

Morgan knew that he had lost. He had to…"Don't even try, sunshine!" Brian hissed, holding Morgan's arm in a vicelike grip.

"Bring him to me," they heard Lord Rhys's commanding voice; Brian jerked Morgan forward and gave him a push, so that he fell at the Prince's feet. Morgan didn't dare rising without permission and cowered on the ground until he was pulled up again and looked into his ruler's face. It showed all the contempt he felt. "You will get the punishment you deserve; you will hang first thing in the morning."

Seized by panic, Morgan looked around. "He's an Englishman, for heaven's sake!" he gasped. "Only an Englishman! What's the matter with you? We have to defend ourselves from these foreigners. We have to defend Wales!" His voice cracked and he looked at the crowd around him pleadingly.

"Is that what you are thinking?" Lord Rhys addressed the men calmly.

Brian stepped forward. "Guy has fought with us and he's one of us; Morgan brought shame on us and to the name Welshman. In a fair fight he wouldn't have stood a chance against Guy; I've watched him often enough. I will take pleasure in putting the noose around his neck."

The people around nodded approvingly, some of them even jeering Morgan and spitting at him. Frantically, he glanced at the hostile crowd. "You are mad, all of you! Don't you see? Wales is bartered away to the English. They are welcomed here, they make themselves at home, first Guy and then this Englishwoman and all of this under the eyes of our ruler. If Gruffydd were our Prince, this wouldn't have happened. He would have…."

Morgan didn't finish the sentence; a blow of Rhobert's fist to his chin dashed him to the ground, rendering him unconscious. Rhobert looked down at the man. It had only been a few minutes, since he had left the chapel with his bride, only a few minutes, after they had tied the knot and now he was standing here, the man who had tried to kill his best friend lying at his feet.

Two soldiers grasped the unconscious assassin and dragged him away. The people's reaction on the cowardly deed had shown Rhys that he still could rely on his men, but he knew that the tables could turn quickly. Morgan was a man without character and he would hang from the battlements the next morning, but perhaps there would be others, perhaps it was time to think of a successor. But who? Gruffydd craved power, but he didn't possess the ability to unify the realm, let alone to win lost lands back from the English.

Rhys knew that his men were waiting for a word from him and that he must not betray his exhaustion, must not show how tired he was. He had to show them strength and determination.

"I hope Guy will live; in the short time he's been here, he has served me well. If Bran had not seen what had really happened, Morgan would have got off scot-free. But this is not the worst. If men like Morgan go to war for our country and butcher down people simply because they are English, then we will lose because the English will take revenge and pay back in kind. If we are careful and merciful, some of the English peasants might even be glad to belong to Wales now, since the English extort a huge amount of taxes to finance their military expeditions. They have lost nearly all their riches to King Richard; they need money. We may even get new allies. If we do not distinguish between enemies and allies, Wales will go down. This is not what I wanted to say at my daughter's wedding but fate had something else in store. Now go back to your chambers, all of you. We will celebrate this event – but not today."

Rhys could see the dismay in the faces around him and knew he had said the right thing. Rhobert still stood next to him as the crowd slowly dispersed. No one paid attention to Marian any more, who had dazedly followed the events.

"I am so sorry for you and Gwyneth", Rhys said to Rhobert. "Of course, you will want to go to Guy as well. Let me know as soon as you have information whether he will survive. – Come on, Bran," he adressed the boy who was standing closely next to him. He looked him in the eyes and smiled at his son. "Come on!", he repeated. Then he nodded again towards Rhobert and departed without waiting for an answer.

"Rhobert!" Only when he heard Marian's voice, he became aware that he was not alone. "Rhobert, I want to come with you – I need to know..."

It took him a few moments until Rhobert found his voice again. He had done her terribly wrong; what would have happened if she hadn't chased off Morgan...

"Please, forgive me, Marian...", he said finally.

"I forgive you. You would have thought... but that't not important now... Please..."

They stepped into Guys chamber where he had been laid on his bed. His head was bandaged, his eyes closed, and he didn't move. His blood-soaked shirt was lying in rags on the floor, and Marian could see the gaping wounds in his shoulder and below the collarbone. Two bowls with steaming water were standing on the table, and Gwyneth carefully pressed a cloth on his wound. Then she stood up to rinse the cloth and to press it on the wound again. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Marian, and Rhobert hurried to explain: "It wasn't her – it was Morgan ap Owain..."

Gwyneth's eyes rested only for a short moment on Marian, then she turned to Guy again. Several times she dipped the cloth into the hot water and cleaned the wound before the adjusted a firm bandage around his shoulder. Guy hadn't moved while she bandaged him – and Rhobert's heart sank. Gwyneth did her best but obviously that wouldn't be enough. "God, help him", he prayed, and sank down on his knees next to the bed. He noticed Gwyneth stepping next to him and touching him lightly.

"He is not going to die", she said. „The wounds on his shoulder are not really dangerous. He has lost a lot of blood, however, and it looks worse than it is. When Morgan attacked him, Guy must have banged his head on a rock. He has a wound at the back of his head which is not very deep, and he will soon come round…"

The way she said it sounded so simple and matter-of-fact that Rhobert felt a bout of new confidence rising in him. He got up and took a deep breath. "I am sure, Rhobert", she said, "but I will stay with him tonight, in case that he might catch a fever."

"Please... _I_ would like to stay with him…" Marians eyes were pleading, but her voice was determined, and eventually Gwyneth nodded.

"Promise me that you will send for me if he starts getting feverish."

"I promise."

Finally, the door closed behind Gwyneth and Rhobert, and Marian pulled the small stool close to Guy's bed. His face was pale, and even in the dark glow of the torches his long lashes stood out from his pale skin. But Gwyneth said that he would live, and Marian believed her. They had Guy blanketed with soft furs, but so that his wounded arm was not covered. _How beautiful his hands are_. Marian was appalled by her thoughts. How could she be thinking about his hands in such a moment? Maybe because this might be the last time that she would ever see him. In two days her ship would be sailing, and then…

A slight noise pulled her from her thoughts. The hand had moved, and as she glanced up, she looked straight into Guys eyes.


	41. Chapter 41

**No time to translate, and so I have to thank you for translating again, Bellydancer. A great thank you to everyone who reviewed. I hope I replied to everyone.**

Illusions 41

His eyes were open, but it was too dark in the room for her to perceive an expression in them or to see whether he had really noticed her. Marian did not dare moving and felt the blood rising in her cheeks. Presently she was grateful that the room was only being lit by a pair of torches. For a brief moment Guy seemed to stare at her, and his lips moved but she could not hear anything. Then his eyes closed again slowly.

_Guy!__Was he…?__Had Gwyneth erred?_ In a hurry, Marian slid from the stool and bent over Guy's motionless figure. No, he was breathing… She saw his chest moving up and down. He had wanted to say something. Maybe he had recognized her, and maybe he would wake up soon. Marian waited, but Guy did not move again and he was breathing calmly. He was asleep.

Marian settled back on the stool and waited. A few times she heard a low groan, but nothing else. The hours went by and the torches started to go out. It was even darker in the room now, and on the little table only one candle still burned. Next to it stood a jar with water and an earthen mug. Marian's back hurt, and she pushed the stool to the wall directly beside Guy's bed so that she could lean against the wall and shove the small fur from the stool behind her back. Again and again, her eyes threatened to close. No, she could not keep sitting like this, she would fall asleep, and if Guy needed her… Marian rubbed her forehead and her neck and rose. He was still lying there, asleep. By now, the bandage that Gwyneth had used to dress his wounds showed dark spots but it wasn't soaked with blood. The young woman had been right. Hopefully, there wouldn't be a fever… but Gwyneth seemed to be confident in this matter as well. The wound would heal; it was only skin-deep, Gwyneth had said.

Marian took a deep breath. This would be the last night for her to be close to Guy; tomorrow she would have to go. She wanted to pretend – if only once – as if everything was allright, as if she could turn back time. Marian knelt down beside the bed and rested her head on it. His face was so close before her, his mouth slightly open, his nose – being ever so slightly too big but nevertheless just perfect with him – that, when she saw his profile... Marian swallowed. What she was doing was crazy, but what did it matter now? It was only one last small dream she had, and which she would keep in her heart when she left. She touched his arm but he did not notice, and maybe it was better that way. When he woke up he would not want her being with him anyway. His words last evening had been clear. It was over, even if Marian was aware that she had lied to herself when she thought that she didn't want him anymore. She would probably always want him. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away. _You are only sorry for yourself, it's your own fault!_

This should have been the best day of their lives, a day just for them, but things had turned out differently. A fire crackled in the fireplace of the chamber that had been prepared for Gwyneth and Rhobert, and soft furs were lying on the carved bed. The door had closed behind them and they were alone. But Gwyneth noticed that Rhobert's thoughts were still with the dastardly attack on Guy. She almost wanted to smile – and this in a moment where any other bride would probably have been hurt if her groom's thoughts were not with her. _I almost love him even more for that!_ She nestled up against him and his arms closed around her while she rested her head on his chest. "I am sure that he will be well soon", she said in a low voice. "Trust me, I have a lot of experience with wounds and would not have left him alone with Marian if I hadn't known that it wouldn't really be dangerous."

"I believe you..." Then he shook his head while he tenderly pushed her away from him and looked in her face. "I love you, Gwyneth." Rhobert's green eyes seemed to penetrate her. She felt his lips on hers, first tenderly, then more demanding, urgent. "Gwyneth!", he gasped. His hands stroked her hair, her arms and then, rather hesitantly at first, her breasts. He caressed her hips and pulled her towards him. Gwyneth unmistakably felt how much he desired her. "You are gorgeous", Rhobert said in a low voice. Suddenly she felt being lifted and laid down on the bed. She never expected anything like this, the shivers that ran down her back, and the joy that almost made her bubble over. She could feel Rhobert's admiring glances, and as sudden as the joy had come, it disappeared. If he saw her legs later on, he would probably not look at her like that any more – and his desire would fade abruptly.

"What's wrong?", asked Rhobert, who had noticed that the light in her eyes was fading away. "I will be careful, you know I will. And…" He swallowed, and his lips puckered into a shy grin. "I haven't got much expe…" He fell silent, knelt down beside the bed and took her in his arms. "I know", Gwyneth replied hesitantly. "...Can't we… turn off the light?"

"Why should we…?", Rhobert asked incredulously. Then his expression changed. "Gwyneth…" he stroked his young wife fondly. "Don't question my loving you. That what happened to you when you were small, your scars…" She flinched, because up to now, everybody had avoided talking about it at all costs. "… your scars", he repeated, and continued caressing her. "... do not change you. I have been a monk and therefore I was lucky not to have been wounded. But almost every soldier in your father's service has suffered from injuries that left scars behind. My brother Griffin once said that Morared must be blind to think him good-looking, and I myself have a long and profound scar that I sustained when I was hunting as a boy. …you will discover it soon enough… And now we will not talk about it any more – and not about turning the light off, either."

Having said that, he kissed her, and she forgot everything she wanted to reply. "Let me look at you", Rhobert said breathing heavily, and reached out for her belt. She had chosen her dress with care and had embellished it with fine embroideries, but now she asked herself why she had bothered – perhaps to draw the attention off her legs – but now she saw that it had not been necessary at all. Rhobert blinked. "Take it off", he exclaimed with a throaty voice. "Please!"

Then he rose and fiddled with his own garment that he carlessly threw on the floor. "Gwyneth!"

Rhobert was no experienced lover, and Gwyneth was almost glad about it. He was careful and gentle, and they started to discover one another. He felt her hands tenderly moving over his naked skin discovering him, he heard her groaning when he kissed and licked her breast. And he realised that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and then every conscious thinking stopped.

Pain, a throbbing in his temple, a sharp pang in his shoulder… What had…? He realised that he was lying on a bed, and his lids were leaden as he tried to open his eyes. He noticed something heavy on his arm and turned his head sideways.

It was still dark, and only the moonlight shone through the window; there were no candles or torches lighting the room, but without doubt there was someone lying next to him – or rather kneeling beside the bed, a woman... He could not see her face for it was covered by long dark hair. It was one of her hands that was lying on his arm, and he heard her breathing, then she slightly moved her head so that the hair fell off her face – Marian!

Then he remembered… the fight with Marian and then Morgan attacking him from behind. Aaahh, the shoulder… but obviously he had survived and Marian had stayed at his bed.

Guy's lids closed again, he would… He slid back into a deep sleep.

Had she really fallen asleep? It must have been for quite a while because the candles and the torches had gone out. Her legs had gone numb, and with a low groan Marian rose; every bone in her body was aching. Guy was still asleep. She saw his chest moving up and down and heard his regular breathing. She lightly put her hand on his forehead – no sign of a fever. Gwyneth had been right, he would soon be back on his feet again.

It was time for her to go before he woke up and found her beside his bed. She knew that he would not react well to this. Tonight she had realised something that had never crossed her mind before. Obviously, Guy had found new friends and a new home here, and she was someone who reminded him of a time he did not want to be reminded of.

She closed the door behind her quietly. Two guards were standing at the entrance of the building. "Guy!" said Marian and indicated one of them to follow her. Apparently, he realised what she wanted but he shook his head and said something in Welsh she did not unterstand. He grimaced and then went away across the courtyard, but he returned after a few minutes with a servant who accompanied her and who obviously understood enough English to make out that he was supposed to stay with Guy.

Then she returned to her rooms. Tomorrow – tomorrow she would leave to reach the ship that would take her away from Wales.

Rhobert drowsily opened his eyes as the rays of the morning sun tickled his nose, and he looked at his sleeping wife. It had been just as he had dreamt it would be. She had not even been shy but seemed to know that her body also belonged to him… He had gathered some experience with women before he had become a monk, but that was merely because it was a given thing. It resolved strain and it had sometimes been rather nice, but to sleep wit Gwyneth... _Who in Heaven's name had come up with this stupid expression?_ He smirked and tenderly stroked Gwyneth's hand that lay on his leg. Would she be asleep for much longer? He would... At a stroke he was awake and sat up with a jerk – Guy!

His heartbeat slowed down a bit when he realised that Lady Marian would have informed them long ago if anything had happened. Nevertheless…

His abrupt movements had woken Gwyneth, who blinked tiredly first and then smiled. "Rhobert…" The happy smile let her eyes sparkle, until she saw the worry in Rhobert's face. She stroked his hand. "I think I know who you are thinking of at the moment… We should check how he is."

Rhobert bent down to his wife and kissed her cheek tenderly. "I have the most wonderful wife in the world! Any other would have told me off for having my thoughts elsewhere on the first day after the wedding, but not you."


	42. Chapter 42

**Back from my holiday and excited about all your kind comments on my story! A great thank you to everyone, who took the time to review; this is very important for me. As before a friend translated for me; I'm very glad, since I really want to finish the story and my schedule is rather tight. It's odd, now that there are only a few chapters to go, I'm a bit sad. Anyway, enjoy!**

Illusions 42

Rhobert opened the door and frowned when he saw the old servant sitting on the stool next to Guy's bed. The old man rose respectfully. "The English lady had me fetched earlier. She had…" he cleared his throat embarrassedly. "I think she had cried… No, no…", he added hastily when he saw Rhobert's distraught expression. "Everything is fine; otherwise I would have informed you immediately."

Rhobert's face lit up and he stepped beside his friend's bed. Guy did not move and was very pale, but his chest heaved with regular breathing. The dressing was soaked in blood, but it did not seem to be fresh blood. Gwyneth now stood next to Rhobert. She bent over the bed and lightly touched Guy's forehead. Hi stirred briefly and then lay still again.

Gwyneth nodded relieved. "He does not have a fever. He has probably slept all night, which is good. The bleeding has stopped. I will order hot water and a fresh cloth for the bandage", she said in a low voice, nodded to Rhobert and went away. "You can go now, I will stay with my friend. Go to the kitchen and let them give you something to eat", Rhobert said to the old servant in a friendly tone.

The old man closed the door behind him, and Rhobert sat down on the stool which he pulled close to the bed. He mutely looked down on his friend. Was it out of the ordinary that he was asleep for such a long time? Maybe Gwyneth had been wrong after all, maybe… _Dear God, please let him live_, he prayed silently.

Guy heard some noise and tried to open his eyes, …voices... the door…something else… _Damn it, why was it so difficult? _He blinked and grimaced. His head hurt, and his shoulder…

"Guy!", he could hear a muffled voice say. He opened his eyes only for a fraction and saw Rhobert sitting next to his bed. His friend had watched at his bedside, and he had mistaken him for Marian in his dream. Now he opened his eyes properly and looked at Rhobert; involuntarily he had to laugh, even though his head hurt in doing so.

"You definitely seem to be much better if you start laughing as soon as you see me."

"I am …" He wanted to say "fine", but the word died on his lips as he tried to sit up with the help of one hand. _Aaargh!__Damn it, that hurt! …and his head!_Moaning, he sank back on his pillow.

"You shouldn't try and sit up. Gwyneth will be back in a moment… She said that your injuries are not…", Rhobert broke off as the door was opened and Gwyneth and a young maid stepped into the room. The young woman put a basin with hot water on the table and laid fresh linen next to it. Gwyneth nodded to her in a friendly way and dismissed her while she put a bowl with hot broth and a pot with a dark tincture on the table. For a brief moment, her hand caressingly stroked Rhobert's arm before she turned to Guy. Her gaze was friendly and kind. "Rhobert, please help me propping Guy up so that I can change the bandage."

With Rhobert's help Guy managed to sit up, and Gwyneth took off the blood-soaked dressing. She inspected the wound and nodded contentedly. "I think the injury was only skin-deep. I know it will hurt, but can you try and move your arm?"

Guy raised his arm and flexed his fingers. He grimaced but didn't say a word. Gwyneth rinsed the wound, soaked a small cloth in the dark tincture, placed it on the wound and then dressed his shoulder again. Leaning against the pillow, Guy ate the broth that Gwyneth made him eat.

"Can you remember what happened?", Rhobert asked, who really looked relieved by now.

"Morgan…", Guy replied with a hoarse voice. "Why am I still alive?"

"Lady Marian obviously noticed the attack and returned, which drowe him away. He probably thought you were already dead, anyway. It seems that you have banged your head on a rock, and if he had succeeded in running the knife into you again… When I saw her kneeling beside you, I thought at first that she had…", Rhobert swallowed. "If it hadn't been for Bran, we would have hung an innocent woman. But he had seen everything… Rhys has already ordered that Morgan will be hanged from the castle's pinnacles. Nothing will save him… and no one has tried to do so."

_No one has tried to do so…_ They had taken the side of an Englishman and turned against one of their fellow countrymen. Guy leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He realised how exhausted he still was and could barely hear Gwyneth's voice while the sleep was threatening to overcome him again.

"It will be the best for him if he sleeps. The wound looks good, but he might still catch a fever, and I will stay with him... I have seen Lady Marian. She asked me how he was. I think I have misjudged her character. She obviously loves him."

"I know, but it cannot be helped and she will leave Wales tomorrow. She told me herself that he can neither forgive her nor does he want to. But I am sure that he loves her as well", Guy heard Rhobert reply.

"It is sad that two people who love one another cannot… I do not understand why he cannot forgive her…"

He slept_.__Marian's face… if I fall on my knees before you… cannot forgive …not forgive… you don't want… a ship…__Waves….he swam and called out but the ship departed… nobody saw him, and then the waves were breaking over his head…_

Guy awoke with a hoarse cry.

"Guy! What...?" Gwyneth's hand touched his forehead. _No, he did not have a fever._

"Nothing!", Guy moaned. "Nothing, it was just a dream…"

"Here, drink something." She helped him to sit up, and he drank with greedy gulps from the mug that she held to his lips.

"How long have I been asleep?", Guy asked.

"Only for a few hours... but I can tell by looking in your eyes that you are better… Can I leave you alone for a while? I can send you a servant later who will stay with you."

"You are welcome to…", Guy interrupted himself when he suddenly became aware that the attempted murder had taken place on the evening of Gwyneth's und Rhobert's wedding, and that right now she should be in bed with her husband. And it seemed that Rhobert had been watching at his bedside. "Gwyneth, I really feel better. You can leave me alone now. It's enough as it is that Rhobert was here all night."

Gwyneth smiled at him. "It wasn't Rhobert, who stayed with you, Guy, it was Lady Marian. She had stayed with you… Rhobert…", she blushed. "I will order some food to be brought to you."

With these words she left Guy alone. Marian…so it had _not _been a dream. She had not only been sitting at his bed, he now clearly remembered seeing her face close to his.

_She will leave tomorrow…_ Didn't Rhobert say something like that? And didn't he say something else? _He does not want to forgive_… the dream from a little while ago… Marian had been right, he did not _want_ to forgive, he had twisted everything in his favour so that the evidence was against Marian and he did not _have_ to forgive her. He shuddered. If what she had said was correct, then she had fallen in love with him – against her own better judgement – that long time ago in Nottingham. She had risked Robin's and the King's anger and begged for his life, and she had paid dearly for it. She had come here because she hoped he had forgiven her, and he had pushed her away. What a self-righteous hypocrite he was! And nevertheless she had sat beside his bed. He had to prevent her from leaving him forever! He would go to her…

Guy pushed the furs that were covering him aside and rose carefully. His legs were rather wobbly. Damn it, why was he so sluggish? After all, he had sustained sword and stab wounds before without him shaking like a sissy. He opened the door and slowly walked down the hallway. He nearly had to laugh; it was almost like being a small boy again when he tiptoed from his chamber and hoped that nobody would notice him. If Rhobert or Gwyneth saw him, they would kindly but surely make him to return to his bed. But he was lucky, the hallway remained empty.

She did not have much to pack and there was nothing else for her to do. Marian lay on her bed and stared through the little window. The sky was blue and she could hear the singing of birds – but she felt like crying. Suddenly, she could hear a sound outside her door, and then it was opened. Guy! It was Guy, standing in the door, white as a sheet and drenched in sweat. "Marian", he spluttered. "Don't go, stay with me!" Then he collapsed.

With a single leap Marian was with Guy, and only seconds later she loudly called for help in the hallway.

He was still unconscious when two servants carried him back to his chamber. The wound in his shoulder had opened again, and the bandage was red with blood. Petrified, Marian stood behind Gwyneth who carefully lifted the cloth, but just at this moment, Guy opened his eyes and looked at her. He said nothing and exhaustedly fell asleep shortly afterwards, so she sat down beside his bed and waited.

Rhobert und Gwyneth quietly left the room. Gwyneth leaned her head on Rhobert's shoulder "I shouldn't have left him alone, but how could I have anticipated…", she broke off and he caressed her tenderly. "Don't blame yourself", he said quietly but determinedly. "The way I see it, it was for the best. And look at the result! I am absolutely sure now that he will recover and that…" He held her face in both hands and smiled at her, and then he took her hand and led her outside.

Marian looked at the sleeping Guy and felt something like panic rising in her. Actually, she still did not know Guy very well, and maybe she was misjudging him again just as she had earlier. Maybe she had only idealized him because she had been lonely and disappointed. If a man like Rhobert was his friend, it would probably mean a lot – and he wanted her to stay, but… Was she about to make a terrible mistake? She hadn't thought long before she followed Rhobert to Wales and…

"Marian!" Guy's rough voice hit her ears and startled her. She had stared into space and not noticed that Guy had regained consciousness. He was looking at her intensely, and she could see the question in his eyes – would she stay? He stretched his hand out towards her and she knew what he wanted. She put her hand in his, and his fingers closed tightly around hers. He hadn't said anything, yet, he just looked at her. Somehow it seemed as if they were looking at each other properly for the first time. He had such gorgeous eyes, blue with a little bit of grey – depending on how the light fell into them –, and he had lovely long lashes. Guy was still very pale but obviously he was on the mend. A little smile appeared on his lips, and she thought about the few times she had seen him smile. He was still holding – or rather clasping – her hand, and then she lightly pressed her lips on his hand. She heard him holding his breath and looked at him, but she didn't dare to say anything either. Marian knew that this could only be a start, there were still too many things unsaid and she hoped that she could trust not only Guy but herself as well.

It was quite some time before she left the room and an old maidservant took her place beside the bed.

Guy leaned back on his pillow. He was aware that he had to remain in his bed and could not risk getting up too early, but he already hated this cramped chamber. When would she return? But then he realised that only a few minutes could have passed since she had left. He had read it in her eyes that she would stay, and then she had kissed his hand. Yes, she would stay, but for how long? What did she expect of him? He wasn't a good person, and he would never be. How long would it take until he disappointed her or until she found someone else who could offer her more?

When Rhobert entered the room and immediately noticed Guy's serious and almost dispairing expression, he frowned. He knew that Lady Marian wouldn't leave Wales, and surely there had been no argument between them.

"You do not quite look as I hoped you would", he said lightly, and sat down as the maid quietly closed the door behind her. When Guy didn't respond, he added more seriously: "I assumed that the things between you and Lady Marian were rectified."

Guy swallowed. "I will disappoint her, I can never live up to her expectations. I can't offer her anything. It…"

"How do you know what she expects? Have you asked her?"

_How did he…_ "I have never asked her, but she has a right for a different life than the one that I have to offer. Lord Rhys once said that he will reward me, but I don't know whether she can and wants to wait… and you know my violent temper, Rhobert."

Rhobert laughed, and Guy looked at him with tightened brows.

"You know that I would never laugh at you, Guy. Yes, I know your temper, but the fact alone that you recognise it tells me that you have changed more than you know. As for the life that you want to offer her – have you ever asked her and yourself whether it is important to her at all? She is here, Guy, and you have the chance for a new start if you trust her. Do you?"

There was a little pause, and eventually Guy nodded. "Yes, I trust her."

"Good!", Rhobert replied and rose. "I trust you, too. Meaning, that I can rely on you not trying to get up again. You no longer need someone to watch over you, do you?"

Guy smiled. "I think I have learned my lesson."

When Rhobert had left, Guy stayed behind meditatively and was glad that he had a chance to collect his thoughts. Maybe he really had a second chance.

For a while, Rhobert stood in the hallway, lost in thoughts. He had known that there was still a lot that remained unsaid between Guy and Marian, and he only hoped that they would manage to get over it.


	43. Chapter 43

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed; it means very much to me. A friend translated for me and I'm really glad for it. This is the last chapter, but there will be an important epilogue. **

Illusions 43

Marian slipped into the little chapel; it was completely quiet, and she did not meet anyone in the courtyard. She wasn't able to sleep and had tossed and turned in her bed. Eventually, she rose by an impulse and got dressed. First, she went to Guy's door, but strangely enough, he was not in his room. In the end, she went down to the little chapel. It was dark inside as the candles had been extinguished after evening mass. With a squeak, the door opened and Marian entered the bleak room that was only lightened by the single light she was carrying. Slowly, she went to the front of the chapel and stared at the crucifix above the altar before she sat down on a bench and carefully placed the candle beside her. She didn't know what she was going to expect – a sign from heaven, maybe? A sign that would tell her how things would continue with her and Guy and that everything would be well? It was cold in the chapel, but she felt even colder inside.

Four days had passed since he had come to her door and asked her not to leave. Four days during which she had sometimes asked herself if she hadn't made a mistake. She had been sitting at his bed but he had often been monosyllabic, almost glum, and she felt as if an invisible wall had been erected between them. It wasn't only his impatience to leave his bed eventually – he had already achieved this goal – it was something else, and she didn't know what.

"Help me!", Marian whispered and was listening for an answer. But there wasn't any, and finally she sighed and rose.

Even now, there was no one in the hallway, and everything was quiet. She hesitated for a moment. She could return to her bed, but she knew that she would not be able to sleep. What good would it do if she was tossing and turning sleeplessly in her bed? Had all the power that she had felt inside her already vanished? Did love mean feeling permanently helpless and never being really happy? She had to talk to him now, even if she had to wake him up. Marian took a deep breath – she had to know what she was getting into. She felt her heart beating in her throat: She was afraid of what he might say, but this trembling uncertainty was even more terrible.

When Marian approached Guy's room, she could hear low voices. Then she saw that the door was not closed but slightly ajar. She raised her hand to knock when suddenly...

"When will you tell Marian?", she heard Rhobert's dark voice say.

Marian felt her heart beating in her throat again. _Tell her __what__?... _She wanted to enter the room, but she was frozen to the spot. Maybe it was even better this way to find out what Guy thought of her. What else could it be than him having second thoughts about her and that he didn't want her any more? The quietness that followed seemed to be endless, even though Marian realised later that it couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds.

"We will _not_ take her with us. It was a mistake asking her to stay with me, and I will have to tell her later." Guy's voice sounded as cold as a stone.

_Take her with them?__What was happening here?_ Marian had heard enough. She determinedly opened the door and entered. "You can just as well tell me _now_, Guy!"

Both men turned round, surprised, and stared at her. Rhobert blinked astonishedly. He had known Marian to be a reserved young woman. In Newtown Abbey he only caught a brief glimpse of the woman who Guy had described. She had self-confidence and a demeanour that distinguished her from most of the other women. This determinedness could he see in her eyes.

"I'll better leave you two alone", he said shortly and left the room.

Marian remained standing near the door. _Had she really been so wrong about him?__It seemed as if he wasn't better than Robin after all – all hat and no cattle – and she had thought… _His face didn't even show a hint of an emotion.

"What was it that you wanted to tell me later, Guy?", Marian repeated with a firm voice. Her initial bewilderment made way to anger and contempt that were mirrored in her features.

For a short moment, Marian could see the uncertainty in his eyes, but then Guy contained himself again. His lips were tightly pressed together when he replied: "It will be better for you if you carry out your original plan and leave the country. I will arrange for…"

_"Better_ for me? And _you_ decide about that? What has happened in the last few days for you to suddenly decide that you do not want me after all? Do you expect a career here at the court and I will be a hindrance?", she asked sarcastically. Her eyes sparkled and her hands were balled into fists.

Guy stared at Marian as if he did not believe what he heard, and in the expression of his eyes she realised that there must be something completely different behind it all. She took a deep breath. "What has happened, Guy?"

_Still drowsy, Rhobert got dressed while Gwyneth plaited her hair and put on a gown.__It was late at night but nevertheless a servant had knocked on their door and asked him and Gwyneth to see Lord Rhys immediately.__An ominous feeling crept over Rhobert; this could not just have something to do with the attack on the English.__They followed the servant along the dark hallway to the prince's rooms.__It was almost deadly silent, only the door squeaked slightly in its hinges as the servant opened it with a bow and then departed._

_Rhys ap Gruffydd was sitting on a carved chair in front of the fireplace.__He quickly glanced up and indicated Rhobert and Gwyneth to sit down… Three chairs, not two… Only a few minutes later, Guy entered and bowed._

_Rhys saw the questioning glances and nodded shortly before he cleared his throat.__"I will come right to the point.__I have received a message today…", his voice wavered, but then he composed himself again.__"I have been very unlucky with my sons, and now it seems that some of them even want to add betrayal to everything they have done already.__Two of them have ganged up against me, and I do not know whether I can fend them off this time.__This is what has always weakened us.__If we had only been of one mind, the English wouldn't have…" He sighed.__"Maelgwn and Hywel have ganged up, and I fear that I have to expect an attack.__If they manage to defeat me, Bran will no longer be safe, and I don't know whether they could be stopped even from killing you, Gwyneth.__So far, you have only been an unimportant who has also hardly ever been at court, but I do not know what ideas might form in their heads."__He paused and looked from Rhobert to Guy.__"I want you to leave the castle just after daybreak and get yourself in safety.__They will not look for you as you are not important enough.__Fight your way to the North; I will give you a letter of consignment that might still be helpful for a while, even though I don't know for how long.__Guy, I had promised you some land and more as a reward.__For now, I am afraid, this will have to be a small old castle in the North of our country with a lot of work to be done to it.__Maybe you can return soon, but for the time being… You will receive some gold from my treasury so that life will not be too uncomfortable for you there.__However, I cannot spare any soldiers at the moment. Nevertheless, you will be able to take a few trustworthy servants with you… Guy, tell me, what about Lady Marian? Will she come with you?__If not, you have to arrange for her to leave the country as soon as possible.__I count on you…"_

_Guy nodded in accordance, but didn't say a word.__He felt numb.__Once again all his plans had come to grief.__It was written in the stars whether they would ever return – and until then they had to live in some semi-derelict ruins together with bats and rats… He had heard of Maelgwn and Hywel and knew about their hatred of everything that was English. While Lord Rhys could distinguish between friends and enemies, his sons would put massacre everyone without drawing a distinction._

_But did he have a choice?__He had given Lord Rhys his word to serve him faithfully – and he would not break his word._

_It was quiet for a while, and Rhys looked at his daughter and the two men expectantly.__Rhobert took Gwyneth's hand and pressed it tenderly before he rose to speak.__"We won't lose any time and start making preparations immediately.__Tomorrow morning we will not leave the castle together but by and by so that for the time being, nobody will know that we are escaping… My Lord, we will not disappoint you. Bran will be safe with us."_

_Rhys ap Gruffydd's face looked as if petrified, and spontaneously, Gwyneth stretched out her hand and tenderly stroked the arm of the man that was her father but who nevertheless was almost a stranger to her.__He looked at her in surprise, and a tired smile slightly lit up his face.__"Thank you, my child", he said and rose.__"May God be with you.__I will let you know when…" He fell silent._

_Only a few moments later Guy, Rhobert and Gwyneth left the rooms of the Welsh monarch.__There wasn't much they could do about it.__Lord Rhys had already sealed the letter of consignment but they did not even know whether they would use it as it might enable possible pursuers to trace them.__Rhobert was quite familiar with the North of Wales and also knew the way to the castle. They would take four servants with them, as well as a richly filled bag with gold._

_"Guy, I think we need to discuss a few things… Gwyneth, please go to our room and wake your maid. Pack a few things, but not so much as for us to need a packhorse."__Rhobert pulled his wife into his arms and tenderly kissed her forehead before he followed Guy into his rooms._

Guy's voice was expressionless, and his face remained unmoved. "Two of Lord Rhys's sons have ganged up against him. Gwyneth, Rhobert and I will flee with Bran to the North of the country and hide there. You see, it will be better for you to leave the country."

What else could he tell her? That he knew for sure she would be sorry after a few weeks to have come with him if she had to live in some old derelict castle in the North of Wales? It was less than nothing that he could offer her – a future in a rat hole. The desperate thoughts that came upon him when he had time for reflection had become reality.

"That_… that _is the reason?", Marian cried, stunned. "Guy, this… this _cannot _be the only reason… And all your alleged feelings for me, are they no longer worth anything?"

"This _is_ the reason – and a good reason!", Guy hissed. "What will you _think_ when you have to live in a godforsaken place in a country whose language you do not understand and whose people hate you because you are English? Here at the court it would have been something different. Then, at the latest, you will be sorry…", he broke off and tried to regain his composure. He breathed heavily, and his face had assumed an almost hostile expression.

"I have come to Wales because of _you_ – and not because of the hope for a safe future", Marian burst out, but Guy only laughed bitterly. "Are you still going to say that when you are living with me in a rat hole? Lord Rhys hasn't minced matters. And now I don't have anything that I can offer you. You want me? You don't know what you are talking about."

Marian saw the flicker in Guy's eyes and sensed that he wanted to say something else. However, he pressed his lips tightly together and simply turned away from her. "Go!", he said harshly.

_"Go_? Just like that? Only a few days ago you asked me to stay with you, and now – just like that – you have changed your mind? And the only reason you can tell me is that it would be better for me to leave and that I had to live in a dilapidated castle? What, do you think, have I done when you left me behind in that tumbledown hut? Vaysey was hard on my heels, and I thought that Robin was dead. I have eked out a living as a _maid_, until I heard the news of King Richard's return. I don't believe you; these are just empty words. Maybe I have never really known you and made a man out of you in my mind that never existed."

"Empty words?", Guy uttered and whirled around. "They _never_ were empty words, and you know as well as I do! But you are right that the man you allegedly are in love with doesn't exist. Over the last few days I couldn't do much else but thinking, and maybe I would even have come to the same conclusion without knowing what Lord Rhys has told us tonight. You fell in love with the _noble _Robin Hood, but he turned out not to be as noble as you thought. And then you have created the illusion of a new noble man, that of a _repentant_ Guy of Gisborne. But wait, not even the name is correct!" His voice sounded scornful, his lips pursed in sarcasm. Only his eyes betrayed him.

Marian stood as if paralysed. Maybe she should have expected it. She had known for a long time that behind his façade Guy was an insecure man. And now he wanted to send her away because he had the wrong ideas of her and of himself. Her heart was beating in her throat. She didn't _want _to go – but what else could she do if he thought that she had fallen in love with an illusion? The man who would previously have done everything to make her stay with him was now about to send her away.

How could she make him see that he was wrong? He wouldn't listen, but why should she give up so easily? "Yes, these _are_ just empty words! You talked about loving me, you wanted to marry me, but probably you only wanted to take revenge on Robin of Locksley. You wanted to own his property and his bride, and now that I do no longer own anything apart from what little money I traded for my jewellery you realise that you…"

With a long step he was with her, grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and shook her. _"That's _what you think of me? How…"

"And _you_? You also think of me that I only love you if you can offer me power and a title…!", she interrupted him.

Guy froze, his grip loosened a fraction and he looked at her, still stunned, while Marian continued in a low voice. "Believe me, I have never thought Robin to be faultless, but I thought he would stick by me… You, however, were even willing to sacrifice your life…" Tears welled up in her eyes; she blinked and bit her lip. "I have had many illusions in my life, and I am afraid that the imagination that you... love me will turn out to be an illusion as well. You want to leave me, and I cannot do anything against it."

Tears ran down her cheeks and she covered her face with her hands. "Marian", Guy moaned and pulled her towards him. He had been so sure that he could not offer her anything but it seemed as if there was something that she really wanted – she wanted _him_. "Marian, I love you so much…" He held her tightly in his arms as if to tell himself that she belonged to him.

"Then don't leave me", Marian whispered. "Stay with me." She wiped her tears away and tried to smile. "Take me with you."

Guy looked down at her. Could she be right? "Marian, I…" His hands nervously stroked her hair; he swept a strand away from her face, and his hands caressed first her cheeks and then her lips… her lovely lips. He felt her tender kiss on his fingers and then he bent down. His mouth touched hers, hesitantly at first, but her lips opened and welcomed him.

The two of them did not hear when the door opened a crack and then closed again quietly. "I think we need another horse", Gwyneth smiled. "I am glad."


	44. Chapter 44

**I really must apologise for letting you wait so long. A friend of mine, who is a translater, had offered to translate for me, but her schedule was too tight and in the end we agreed that I'll try to translate myself. Please bear in mind that I had nobody to read it over and be lenient with mistakes - I'm still German.**

By the way - the rebellion of Lord Rhys's sons actually happened.

Epilogue

_Marian's diary…_

Somehow I don't know myself why I'm putting this down on paper. It is only for me to read and no one else will ever set eyes on it, lest of all people Guy. It's still not easy for him to talk about his feelings and seeing it in writing…

I still feel it like yesterday, his heart beating, his lips soft on mine, soft but at the same time fierce, tender and rough. I still hear him breathing, feel his body against mine, holding me as if he never wants to let go. I feel his lips on my throat, his fingers at my breasts and I'm back, back when he kissed me for the first time. But this time everything is different…

Then – I was so ashamed afterwards; he'd been so happy about this first kiss, not knowing that I only gave in for Robin's sake, for his escape. And now his arms around me and there is this feeling I cannot describe; there is only him and nothing else.

Breathing heavily, he releases me, his hands still touching my shoulders; I sense how nervous he is. His beautiful eyes are tender; I see the uncertainty but then – to my surprise – a sparkle. "You made your decision," he says softly, his lips curling in a subtle smile.

We left the castle at dawn, two little groups who merged later on. In the first days after we didn't dare to rest for a long time; we went to sleep late at night and rose at dawn. But nobody followed us and it was weeks later, when we learned about the events at Dinefwr Castle.

Lord Rhys had known what would happen: His sons Maelgwn and Hywel had plotted against him and had imprisoned him on Nevern Castle. Yes, Lord Rhys had been right; disunity like this would be the downfall of Wales, I realised. This realisation had hit him hard, maybe even more than his sons' betrayal. His imprisonment didn't last long. I've never learned what it was that caused Hywel to release his father, maybe a dispute with with brother Maelgwn.

But we didn't know anything about it. Exhausted but unmolested we arrived at our destination; the castle looked exactly as Guy had predicted, more a ruin than a proper building. There were some scattered farms and a hamlet, but fortunately Lord Rhys was held in high esteem here and everyone was willing to help us. And what could have we done, if they had refused? And there we were: Eight adults and a little boy, who would rebuild these walls with the help of a few peasants.

There was even a priest, who married them in the derelict chapel belonging to the castle. Guy was tense and only smiled after the man of God had said all the necessary words. Did he think that I would leave him at the altar like I did before? I knew he hated not even being able to put a ring on my finger; I could see it in his eyes, although he didn't say it aloud. For a second he gazed fixedly at the walls, but then he regained his composure and smiled at me. I swallowed, thinking of this last time when we had stood in front of a priest and how my flight had humiliated him. If I had known of all the things to come… would I have acted differently? I don't know; Guy was a different man then, I really don't know.

But now, here, when I laid my hand in his, it was my own free will to give my oath of love and fidelity and when I saw his eyes, everything else became so irrelevant. _Guy, I love you._

Lord Rhys had only wanted us to stay away as long as it was not safe for us, but then he sent us a letter Rhobert read to us. Rhys ap Gruffydd left it up to us to choose between staying here or returning to his court. Reading between the lines, we knew that he rather wanted us to stay where we were. He had succeed in regaining his power, but perhaps he had realised that time was running out for him. I don't know, I have only seen him a few times and I don't know what he had done to antagonize his sons or if he had done anything at all. What I realised, however, was that he loved Bran with all his heart and Bran must have known it, too, despite the sparse words in the letter, for I saw him swallowing and blinking to avoid tears welling up. From the corner of my eye I saw Guy laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently. Guy has forgotten this for sure, but I think that at this moment he saw the little homeless boy _he_ had been.

Yes, Guy has told me everything and there it was again in his eyes, the fear of rejection, although I was his wife. Time and again he wants to hear that I love him as if he were not sure and maybe he isn't.

We never returned to the Prince's court. It is odd, but this country, whose language I didn't speak at the time when we got here, has become my home, perhaps because here it was for the first time that I saw him laugh, really laugh out loud. I love his laughter; it's still rare and therefore so precious to me. When he's laughing, his whole face changes and I see the man he could have become. But we cannot turn back the clock and I'm grateful for him and everything I have with him.

Thinking back, I know that I had expected our marriage to become kind of a fairytale and Guy the white knight. Now I know that he will never be able to shed his past; he will never be an open a trusting man. Perhaps I was able to leave the past behind because I can see the best in people whereas Guy will always be a wary person. It is not that he is discouraged easily, but he always expects the worst.

During the years I have learned to handle a man, who not only retreats bodily when he has to deal with throwbacks or if he's in one of his moods. I know I have to contain myself, but I know there is someone who will always cheer him up – Alathea, our firstborn daughter.

It's like a miracle to me that all our children live. I don't know of any other family, who has not lost at least one child, but maybe Heaven wants us to compensate for everything we endured. After Alathea, there were Henry, Rhobert, Dillan and Megan. They are as different as day and night. Dillan resembles Guy, the dark hair and grey blue eyes; he laughs easily and with his 15 years he knows how to twist the girls in the neighbourhood around his finger, yes, neighbourhood. The few scattered farms and the hamlet have become a prospering village by now. The only girl who seems to be immune is Rowena, Rhobert's and Gwyneth's daughter – or is it only an act? Sometimes I see a gleam in her eye when he's coming around, but she always suppresses it rather quickly which seems to annoy him. She's the spitting image of her mother and, who knows, in a few years. They are still so young…

Life is not always easy here, but our children grow up free and loved and in the companionship of friends. Rhobert and Gwyneth have become more than friends for me; they are my family and I love them. So I'm happy here in a foreign land with my family.

There is some wistfulness when I think of the two people, whose graveyards are on the hill nearby, marked by two simple crosses, two people, who belonged to us and who we didn't dare to hope seeing again: Anne and Osgood.

I still see the expression on Guy's face when the two of them, accompanied by a few soldiers, rode into the courtyard and see the tears rolling down Anne's face and Osgood, dear Osgood, nearly choked with emotion when he embraced Guy.

It was Rhobert who told me how it all came about. In his answer to Lord Rhys Guy had actually asked for someone to be sent to Anne and Osgood. I know that it is not in his nature to ask for favours, but maybe he had an inkling what Anne and Osgood had to indure. The old Sheriff had happened to have accident and Prince John's myrmidons didn't even try to palliate their actions against King Richard's followers. It didn't matter that Osgood had become oddly quiet after his return from the King's court. Only Anne knew that he would be faithful to his oath to serve King Richard, but that he had lost all illusions about his sovereign's character.

The new Sheriff's men rode into the courtyard, ridiculing Osgood, feeling up the maid servants and even stealing some of the cattle. Anne and Osgood knew that it was only a matter of time when they would be attacked. If they dared to defend themselves, they would be thrown into the dungeon, that much was clear. It was then when they got Guy's message; the same pedlar, who had brought Guy's letter, brought the offer of much more.

I saw how Anne and Osgood flourished here in Wales; it had not only the exhaustion of a long and hard journey that had shown on their faces. They had not been happy for a long time. For our children they became their grandparents and for Guy his parents; I loved them too and I will never forget I had to suppressa smile wehn i saw how Anne treated Guy and how he let her - the expression on his face, like a little boy scolded for fetching a piece of meat out of the pot. It's these memories I carry with me.

I have never regretted having followed Guy, although it is not always easy to live with him. I love him so much and still, after all these years, when I feel his eyes on me and then his hands on my waist, there is this feeling that will never go away. I see only him and everything else is nonexistent. I love his hands and I love what they do with me, I love his mouth on my skin and sometimes I could weep, so happy I am. His beard is grey now and there are grey streaks in his hair; the lines around his mouth and his eyes are deeper now, but they are also proof that he has learnt to laugh.

The castle we found dilapidated upon our arrival stands proud and firm now. It is our home, for us, for our children, for Rhobert, Gwyneth and their six boys and girls. We will stay here… perhaps… Yes, I know that sometimes Guy is not content with what we have here. Sometimes I see his eyes roaming over the woods and plains, know his thoughts. What if? I remember the ambitious gleam in his eyes when he watched Bran and Alathea playing hide and seek and now, years later, see him watching them again, kissing in the darkness. Alathea, our daughter, and Bran, a son of Rhys ap Gruffydd….

He's not always like that; I'm positive that he knows what is really important in life, but he's still Guy. No matter what happens, I'll always love this man and will follow him wherever he may go – Guy, my husband, my lover.


End file.
